


Ask Not the Sparrow

by ColorfulCrayola



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Absent Parents, Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bad Parenting, Boats and Ships, Dragons, Flying, Friendship, Gen, Kidnapping, Non-Sexual Slavery, Original Character-centric, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Post-How To Train Your Dragon (2010), Revised Version, Slow Build, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulCrayola/pseuds/ColorfulCrayola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After living with her less than capable uncle for the past six year, Oddny Skovgaard is finally going to go home to see her parents. While preparing for a trip to visit them, she makes a few friends who take her on a short trip into the woods in an attempt to see a dragon they saw flying around. They found the dragon, but they also found a dragon trapper. Before she knows it, Oddny is thrust into a life of servitude under a vicious group of Vikings, doomed to tend to their hoard of blood-thirsty dragons until she dies or finds an escape. Will an unlikely friendship save her from the cutthroat army, or will it be the death of her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pining

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> "Wait, what's going on?" "Where are all the chapters at!" "Crayola, what have you done?!" are all things you might be shouting at me through your screens right now upon realizing that I'm missing like, 10 chapters. WELP. I found a wonderful person to beta for me - shout out to my new bud Fizzlemcschnizzle - so I'm doing a soft reset on this story while I get it all fixed up.
> 
> Cuz let's be real here. It was a mess, so I'm rewriting with Fizzle's help. Don't know how long it'll take, and sorry for all of those hoping for actual updates with new chapters. D; I was just so unhappy with the story as it was and almost couldn't continue writing it because of that. I'm feeling better about it now, and my beta is an absolute peach. Be sure to throw Fizzle some love if you get the chance! In the meantime, enjoy this rewritten story.
> 
> Chapter one changelog: almost completely rewrote the first half. More detail, less expository, Frits isn't QUITE that big of an asshole anymore. Basic quality of life changes. Some minor rearranging.
> 
> ~ Crayola

The sun had set some time ago, casting the quiet woods in a darkness penetrated only by the meager light cast from the slivered moon high in the sky. A wafting breeze disturbed the trees' branches, their leaves beginning to change colors with the coming chill. Save for the soft whistle of the wind, all was silent as the world slept.

All except for the residents of a lone cabin nestled deep within the trees, firelight flickering in the foremost window.

Out in the cold, wedged between a barrel and the cabin wall, hid a shivering girl.

Of the places Oddny longed to be at the moment, squatting in the damp grass was near the bottom of her rather short list. The ferns crumpled beneath her worn boots were still wet from the rain that had passed and soaked through the material. Huddling in the fetal position did not spare her fingers and toes from going numb; the bitter air nipping at her nose and cheeks wasn't helping.

Inside, the fire in the hearth and a bed of furs called her name. They would be more than enough to warm her bones and chase away the stiffness wrought by the chill. However, her concern wasn't freezing to death in the yard—it was who lurked within those cabin walls.

Uncle Frits was in there.

Under normal circumstances, that wasn't an issue. Tonight, though, he had chosen to drink himself stupid at the alehouse in town. It only happened once in a blue moon, but a drunk Uncle was a scary Uncle. Oddny had long since learned how to deal with him when he came home in such a state.

Hide.

Evade.

If she allowed him the time to shout until he passed out, she could slink back in and return to her regularly scheduled night. Of all the times he could have chosen, Uncle Frits decided to get drunk on the coldest night in days.

However much he frightened her when drunk, at least he was never violent. Sometimes, though, she wished he  _would_  strike her. It would be more bearable than the venomous taunting and mockery he subjected her to when she was within his sights. The man had a way with words, and when he was drunk he could craft up wounds more devastating than any sword or bow or fist could. He always knew just what to say to whittle at her insecurities and pierce her heart.

Should luck smile upon Oddny, he would apologize the next day. That was assuming he didn't drown his memory in alcohol—Oddny would forever be wary of him regardless. Freezing to death or nursing a head cold would be easier to endure than his tongue-lashings.

Still, she would have liked to come inside soon.

As the gods would have it, her current predicament would remain until all fell quiet in the cabin.

Oddny pulled her parka tighter around her and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. Rubbing her arms wasn't helping at all, but at least the barrels of rainwater at her sides shielded her from the cutting wind. It was times like these, when her uncle was drunk and she couldn't go anywhere else, that she missed her childhood home the most.

Even at his best, Uncle Frits couldn't replace the warmth of her mother's smile. He wasn't Father, whose ribbing was good-natured. Who offered patience and guidance. Though the cabin was warm and comfortable, it wasn't enough to keep her from missing her home in the prairie. Dragons never raided that far inland and it seemed the whole world was an open road beckoning to her and promising adventure.

Her current residence was locked away in a remote location surrounded by dragon-infested woods far from the nearest town—which he never took her to visit and forbade her from traveling to on her own. Never mind that she wasn't allowed to stray far from the yard, either.

How she longed to be free to chase the braying goats and ride the work houses throughout the plains. She even missed milking the cows and acting as a distraction to their vicious rooster while Mother collected eggs from the henhouse, however many scratching and pecking she had to endure. Accompanying Father into town had seemed a chore at the time, but Oddny would have liked that now.

She had taken all of that for granted when she had lived there.

Now all of it was gone, stolen when she was forced to make the months-long journey to her uncle's home. Her parents were still fine and home was still there. Oddny had never wanted to leave, but it had been deemed to be in her best interest when the farm stopped producing as much as it used to and money was tight. The drought had been devastating, and the livestock had fallen ill.

With no end in sight, Mother and Father hadn't had any other choice but to send Oddny to someone who could provide—and that been her Uncle Frits.

His voice cut through her thoughts. "Calla!"

There was no better proof of Uncle Frits' inebriated state than when that name escaped his lips. The very sound of it was enough to set Oddny's teeth on edge. That name was  _not_ hers.

"Calla!" he called out again, raising Oddny's hackles and increasing the frequency of her shudders. Not from the cold, but from irritation.

Calla:  _my flower_. His wife's name.

His  _dead_  wife.

Just before Oddny had come to live with her uncle, his wife had been killed when the dragons raided Penshaw, the town on the other side of the woods. He was still distraught over her loss, and what made it worse was Oddny's uncanny resemblance to her Aunt Calla. It didn't take long for her likeness—from the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose to the way the mess of dark hair surrounded her sun-kissed skin—to drive her uncle mad.

When Uncle Frits had come to pick her up, Oddny had been twelve and desperate to stay with her parents. She hardly knew the man and begged her parents to let her stay. She could do more work, try harder to help Mother and Father keep the farm alive. She and Mother had cried together while Father stood by in stoic silence.

It was for her own well-being and was supposed to help both her and Uncle Frits. He was dealing with the loss of his wife, Mother's sister, and needed her company as much as she needed his support and the meals he could steadily provide. Unlike them, he would be able to teach her to read and write. None of them knew how, and they would never have been able to afford a tutor even when the farm was doing well.

Above all, it was supposed to have been  _temporary._  When the farm was doing better, and when Frits was back on his feet, they would bring her back home to live with them.

Four years later, Oddny was still somewhat convinced it was all her fault. Maybe she didn't bring about the drought that had killed the crops and sickened the livestock, but perhaps she could have worked harder and complained less.

Maybe then they would have been able to care for her.

Maybe then she could have stayed with them instead of moving to live with her uncle.

Certainly, she wouldn't be crouched outside between two rain-filled drums, shivering and scared of her uncle. It was hard to dislike him, though. It hadn't been his idea, and she could only imagine what sort pain he had to endure after losing a wife and then taking care of a niece that looked so much like her. It had to be soul-crushing.

There wasn't a lack of pleasant recollections with Uncle, at least. Most of the time, he was pleasant to be around and treated her fairly. However, they didn't have nearly as much fun as she and her parents had.

Uncle spent the majority of his days working within the town of Penshaw, leaving her at the cabin alone to entertain herself. He couldn't properly work and watch her at the same time, so it was easier to leave her behind. It was much too dangerous for her to wander the woods alone and he had promised severe consequences should she ever be caught.

So, she stayed and ended up taking care of all the chores. There were a few, but nowhere near as many as there had been on the farm. Aside from cleaning, Oddny had become proficient in preparing their meals over the years.

He insisted that it was the entire reason she had to stay behind when he traveled to town for his work—someone had to stay and tend to the cabin while he was gone. Oddny, however, knew the truth. After losing his wife to the dragons that had plagued the town, he had grown too paranoid to put Oddny in anything close to danger.

Though there wasn't any livestock in the area to draw the scaly creatures' attention, it wasn't something he wanted to risk. Being devoured by them sounded like no enjoyable experience, so Oddny abided by his rules.

After four years of never once seeing a dragon, even in the distance, she was itching to go past the yard. Her free time back home had been spent exploring the area outside their farm, whether astride a horse or by foot. Cabin fever was setting in with a vengeance, chasing away any lingering fear of suffering the same fate as Aunt Calla.

In fact, more recently, Oddny had begun doing just that. She knew Uncle's schedule fairly well and could traverse into the edge of the woods without being found out most days. If he happened to come home, his "severe punishments" bore no more weight than an angry lecture.

The first time, she had been terrified of what he would do, but it turned out there wasn't much. She was already stuck at the cabin and had very little in the way of privilege or belongings that he could confiscate. He made her go to bed without supper after spending a good portion of the night berating her, but that was the extent of it.

So, she continued to wander the fringes of the trees, gathering kindling and making a mental catalog of what wildlife lived in the area: birds, toads, and the occasional deer. Never a dragon, though, and that was what had her the most curious. Uncle was terrified of them, but that made them more intriguing. Seeing one for herself might help her understand some of the feelings he harbored toward them.

Inside, Uncle Frits still called for her by the wrong name. Oddny shuddered out an exhale, her breath curling upwards in a puff. Her shivering had become more violent, but it was only a matter of time before he gave up.

Suddenly, the front door opened. Oddny froze and her breath caught in her throat.

"Calla!" he bellowed, his voice carrying into the forest. It never ceased to amaze her how that voice could come from such a lanky man. "If you're out there again, so help me!"

He waited and Oddny still held her breath, her eyes closed tight. The cabin wasn't all that large, so it wouldn't have taken him long to check the interior. He usually passed out before that, though, so Oddny began to think that he hadn't had that many drinks tonight.

Were that the case, it was only a matter of time before he came outside looking for her.

And if he didn't find her by the cabin, he might wander into the woods. In the dark, he was sure to lose his way—and that would be on her.

"Where are you? Calla!"

She lifted her hands to cover her ears and pressed herself harder against the cabin wall.  _That's not my name! I'm not her!_ she thought, her teeth clenched.

Something had changed since the last time he'd called out. There was a tinge of desperation underneath the slurring. His shadow spanned over the yard as he left the warmth radiating from the door, leaving the comfort of the cabin to search the darkness for her.

"Please—," he said, stumbling over the uneven ground. "I just. . .I just want to talk. Please—Please, Calla, come back!"

His words stirred something within Oddny; she was certain that, right then, he wasn't talking to her. Uncle was calling for Aunt Calla. The wound had been so fresh when Oddny had first come to live with him. He'd lived a lonely and broken life until Mother and Father had decided it would be better for both her and Frits if she came to live with him.

The sudden, devastating loss of his wife at the claws of a dragon—living with someone who was the spitting image of her—even after these four years, he still ached for her.

A wave of guilt blindsided Oddny as she sat crouched in the dark, allowing her broken and grief-stricken uncle to worry over nothing. Making him relive that awful moment Aunt Calla hadn't come home. This had never happened before. He'd always shouted himself out cold and then woke up the next morning with a headache, apologizing for his behavior.

That despairing tone, the hitch in his voice. . . .

I  _did this._

Aunt Calla never had the chance to give Uncle Frits a child, so he was just doing his best. He didn't know how to care for a child, just that she needed shelter and food. He hadn't been prepared to be responsible for a kid, but his precious flower's sister had needed him—his niece had needed him. So he'd spent all the coin he had to his name at the time to travel to their farm and pick Oddny up.

It was what Aunt Calla would have wanted.

"You're all I have," Uncle Frits whined, traipsing about the yard around the perimeter of the cabin, unable to even walk straight.

Sighing, Oddny uncurled from the tight ball she'd wound herself in and shimmied out from between the two rain barrels. She straightened her pants and parka, then snuck around to the front door to wait for him. He'd come back around eventually, and hopefully, he'd be more relieved to see her home okay than angry at her for disappearing in the first place.

"I can't—I can't go out there," he was muttering to himself. "But if she—I'll have to. I can't just let her. . .it's so cold and—Calla!"

"It's  _Oddny,_  Uncle," she murmured, averting her gaze. She squared her shoulders and set her chin, waiting for the coming onslaught of curses and insults and reprimands. However, as he stomped up to her, she couldn't help but glance up at the man, tall as a tree and reed-thin, and cringe.

None of that came, though. Instead, he kneeled down and gathered Oddny up in his arms, pressing her close against his chest in a rare embrace. "Thank—thank the gods."

Oddny stood in stunned silence, her back arched awkwardly and her arms hovering up by his shoulders. Uncle Frits had never been an affectionate man, offering her little in the way of attention outside of a smile or a pat on the head. Now that he clung to her, she wasn't sure how to react.

After a moment, he held her at arm's length and looked her up and down.

Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

However, the relief on his face slowly gave way to a more familiar irritation and his fingers dug into her shoulders uncomfortably tight. "Where  _were_  you? Why didn't you, how come—why didn't you answer me when—when I was calling you this whole time?" he demanded, his chest heaving beneath his heavy shirt. Even the simple task of jogging around the house proved too much for someone living the life of a scribe.

She pulled away and dropped her gaze again. He released her without putting up much of a fight. "I—I was. . . ," she tried to rub some of the feeling back into her fingers, wishing they would move the conversation inside already.

"Well?" pressed Uncle Frits.

In a small voice, she finally said, "I was hiding."

Taken aback, brows furrowed beneath his ruddy mop of hair, Uncle Frits asked. "Hide—you—whatever for?"

"I. . . ," Oddny regretted saying it, but she didn't have an excuse ready. Now, she was in too deep and felt like she could do nothing else but keep up with the truth. Hopefully, he would take it well. "I don't like it when you drink."

A muscle tightened in his jaw and he stood up with a sigh. "Get inside before. . .you catch your, uh, death. How long were you planning—were you going to sit out in the cold?" There was a dangerous bite to his hitching words, like the calm before a storm. He could have screamed it at her or been making a polite suggestion: Oddny was more than happy to scurry inside to the fire.

"You gonna answer me?" Frits prompted, punctuating his words by slamming the door shut.

Jumping, Oddny struggled to remember what he'd asked. "I don't know," she finally responded, wringing her hands in front of the flames. "Until you stopped shouting."

Rubbing his face, Frits heaved another heavy sigh. He raised his other hand, fist clenched as if he wanted to hit something. Oddny didn't flinch, however—it happened so often and seemed to be more of an angry tick than a real threat.

"Sorry," he harrumphed. "Go. . .uh, go eat something, then get some, mm, some sleep. First thing in the morning we're going. . .going into town."

Her heart soared and Oddny turned toward him, her eyes wide. "What? Really?"

He shot her a sidelong glare. "Yes! Don't—don't interrupt. There was something. . .something else I wanted to—gods, stop  _staring_  at me like that Calla!"

No sooner had he spat the words and Oddny had dropped her gaze to her shoes.

She didn't bother trying to correct him this time.

"We're going into town first thing. . .after breakfast. You need something else to wear. And you're too thin! Go eat!"

Nodding, Oddny scurried into the other room at his command, her boots shuffling against the wooden floor. Inside the warmth of the cabin, with the fire blazing in the hearth, the circulation began to return to her fingers, toes, and face.

It wasn't quite enough to return her fine motor skills. It took a few tries before she could light the coals in the oven.

Her thoughts were elsewhere and her digits uncooperative—in these last four years of living with Frits, he had never taken her into town for anything, least of all new clothes. If she grew out of her old outfit, he would bring her home a new one after he returned from work. Usually, it was out of style and more often than not a size too big.

"You'll grow into it," he'd say.

She was always glad for an oversized parka. Her current one had started out three sizes too big, nearly drowning her in the thick fabric, but at least she'd always been able to cuddle up with it during an extra cold night. Now, though, she'd completely grown into it and it was beginning to show the wear and tear of wearing it for a couple years.

At the moment, though, she was glad that he hadn't devolved into his usual tirade of slurred vitriol and verbal abuse. Oddny was more than happy to distract herself with her current directive while his usual mockery was held at bay.

Of course, when Uncle Frits instructed her to go eat, it was a euphemism for "Make me some supper and get some for yourself."

Though he had told  _her_  to eat, she knew that if she didn't make enough for Frits, he would be upset. She found the trout that Uncle had brought back from town—a fairly large and expensive-looking one at that—that she prepared to cook.

From the other room, her uncle shouted, "You find. . .you got the fish?"

"Yes, Uncle," she called in response, already halfway through scaling it.

"I—you know that, er, I—I caught that myself today?"

She rolled her eyes, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she finished her prep work and put the fish on to bake in the oven. "Oh, really? It must have taken you all day to reel in this monster."

He snorted and sounded much smugger. "It—yeah, it sure did."

She was humoring him, of course. Uncle Frits was as much a fisherman as Oddny was the daughter of a royal family. Even if he wasn't drunk enough to spit venom, the ale was still making him spin some tall tales.

However he managed to acquire it, it would make a fine supper.

A large, iron cauldron was still sitting on a small pile of coals. She coaxed those back to life and stirred the contents; a layer of fat had formed over the top of the brown liquid.

Frits was no hunter or farmer, so he often traded his services or what coin he was paid for meat and vegetables. The stew contained boiled turkey bones, carrots, corn, and beans. It would feed them for one more day before it turned sour.

There was a small amount of stale bread left and she made a mental note to let Frits know so he could trade for more—or maybe some ingredients so she could make her own.

"Calla?" he called quite a while later. Frits was sitting in his chair, nursing a cup of water and reading over one of the manuscripts he was supposed to copy, using the light from the fire to do so. "I mean. . . sorry, Oddny. Are you doing okay in there?"

Her fleeting glance didn't halt her work and she cut up the baked trout, then served her meal on a pair of wooden plates, and the stew into similar bowls.

"Nearly finished," she called, taking a moment to clean up behind herself before salt and grime could turn into a stubborn crust. When she was finished, she brought out the food to set the table, then stepped back to wait for him with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Supper," she called.

Realizing she forgot something, she scurried back into the kitchen to grab a pair of knives, wooden spoons, and two cups of buttermilk left over from the day before. They would need more of that as well.

Through great effort, Frits stood and kept his balance long enough to sit down in one of the wooden chairs, surprising Oddny. He looked her over and huffed. "You clean up?"

A nod marked her response.

"Well, sit down an' eat. I gotta tell you what's going on."

He set down his drink and started on his food. Calla waited until then to start picking at her fish with her knife. She tried the stew, and it was already starting to taste a little funny.

Curiosity ate away at her insides until she could not contain herself. It was strange for him to eat with her at the table proper, and it was hours past regular supper time. He had been out much later this night—though that was quite normal if he'd been drinking, so she didn't think much of it. Now, though, he had informed her that she was to go into town and would  _shop_  with him. For  _clothes._

She had to know.

"Why are we going into town tomorrow?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

When he glanced up sharply at her, she looked back down at her food.

Frits grunted and shoveled stew into his mouth. Had he taken some time to groom himself and work on his manners, he might have been a handsome man. He wasn't trying to impress anyone, though. Not after his wife. "I saved up some money. Your parents want to see you. Can't go visit them looking like I haven't been taking care of you."

Oddny's mouth dried and she shifted her gaze up from her meal. All traces of hunger were replaced with several emotions she couldn't discern. "My. . .parents?"

With his mouth full, all Frits could do was grunt.

"Did they send another letter? Can you read it to me?"

"Tomorrow." He shrugged his reedy shoulders and sucked on a turkey bone with stomach-churning noises. "It came today—and  _you_ can read it."

Taken aback, Oddny nearly choked on her bite of trout. "What? But I can't. . . ."

He interrupted her with a snort. "You've gotten better. 'Sides, what would your parents think if you came home and couldn't read?"

Somehow, her appetite returned and she nibbled on her much smaller portion, allowing the stew to soak into the stale bread to make it easier to eat. She would have to brush up on her drills later. Between chores and Uncle working all the time, she wasn't keeping up like she should. It was exciting enough to know they'd sent another letter; she had quite the collection stowed away.

"Do I take good care of you?" he asked without warning halfway through the meal, his gaze aimed downward.

She found trouble swallowing her food. So this was what had been bothering him. He was doing his best, Oddny couldn't deny that, but to go so far as to say he was taking  _good_  care of her. . .well that would be a little less than truthful.

"I'm not dead," she said at last, managing a half-smile.

He chuckled and poked at his half-eaten fish, but said nothing more.

"You're not worried about the dragons?" Oddny said after some time, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes still locked on her plate. "You don't take me into town or let me wander far from the cabin because of them, right?"

Frits froze mid-chewing and the color drained some from his face. Oddny shrunk into her seat and busied herself with gnawing on her softened bread.

"Shouldn't be a problem," he sighed at last. "There haven't been signs of them since last year."

"Last year? You mean they're gone?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and swallowed some stew. "They stopped coming into town and we haven't seen any big groups, a few every now and again in the distance or in the woods, but they haven't bothered us or tried to steal any food."

"Why?" Another question remained stuck at the tip of her tongue—if they hadn't been showing up lately, why had he waited so long to take her into town?

He glanced up at her and shook his head. "No one knows and no one's questioning it."

Oddny could understand that. One doesn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but to have them all stop the raids like that was strange. Had they found a better source of food?

In the end, she decided it didn't matter.

She was going into town!

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Frits cleaned his plate first and left his dishes on the table for Oddny to tend to. She ate slower, then picked at anything he left over before washing the plates and bowls. As she was finishing up, Frits called her over.

"Yes?" She kept her gaze locked on his chest instead of his face. When he was lucid he didn't mind eye contact, but when he had a couple beers in him, it tended to make him irate.

"I found a couple more furs in storage. It's getting colder so I thought you'd need them." He had a bundle of furs in his arms, and Oddny wasn't sure how he could have afforded half of them—elk, bear, wolf. . .where had he gotten those?

Most days, in fact, Oddny wasn't sure how he came up with the money to buy  _anything_. He was a scribe, so he spent his days copying manuscripts for people. Sometimes he'd snag a big client and make decent gold, but more often than not he was writing letters for the less literate citizens in exchange for favors or goods.

However he may have accomplished it, he had saved up enough to take her home and see her parents. She'd asked to visit them so many times, but it hadn't been possible.

They lived so far away from her parent's farm. They certainly hadn't been able to come visit her, either. The letters were nice, but they weren't enough. She lost sleep some nights thinking of their faces, remembering how it felt to be embraced by them. Her uncle was nice—most of the time—but he wasn't the affectionate type.

These surprise furs and the relieved hug from earlier were about the extent of his love.

She nodded and even beamed a smile at him. Her heart was soaring at the thought of seeing Mother and Father for the first time in years, and maybe she would even be able to stay. Permanently. Surely the crops had to have had time to recover by now.

This time, she would help out more and complain less.

"Thank you," she murmured, lifting her hands to receive the furs.

"Don't mention it," he harrumphed, tossing them on top of her.

Oddny tried to catch them, but she was engulfed by the plush bundle and flailed around until she came out from under them. When she finally had them organized properly, Frits was already curled close to the fire in his usual bed, swaddled in his own furs.

She stared at him a moment longer, a new warmth for the man kindling in her chest. He was taking her home. He wasn't the best parental figure, but he had his moments.

This being one of them.

How long had he been saving for this trip and had her parents helped at all? What sort of things went into traveling that far? Oddny figured the only thing she should care about was the fact that it was happening, not the finer details.

Though she thought herself too excited for sleep, fatigue wrapped its warm fingers around her mind and a yawn seized her. She curled up on the opposite end of the room, further away from the fire but still able to feel its heat. Oddny fell asleep facing the dying flames, imagining how the reunion was going to play out.


	2. Favors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> I'll be trying to ship these edited chapters out in groups. It all depends on how extensive the revisions might be or how much time I have. I'm trying to work on my other projects at the same time, so who knows. Hopefully, it won't take me as long to revise this as it's taking me to revise Phantasm. My goal is to finish revising both this and Phantasm before the end of the year, preferably before the baby comes.
> 
> Oh yeah. I'm pregnant. Did I mention? I don't think I did. Not for this group of readers but I think for my AVP and Transformers readers I did...well now you know lmao.
> 
> Chapter two changelog: Twice as much beetle as before! Some rearranging and minor historical discrepancies modified. More introspection. Oddny can kind of sort of almost read, so by proxy Frits is even less of a neglectful twit. I'M GONNA FIX FRITS YET. Oddny, too. I know she's...less than she could be right now. Um...character growth? Heh...heh...
> 
> ~ Crayola

A beetle made slow progress across the wooden floor, stopping to fish out a crumb or other such morsel from the nooks and crannies. Oddny had awoken earlier and remained swaddled in the warmth of her new furs to watch the bug scuttle along. Even though she was close enough to squish it with little effort, it proceeded along its chosen path as if nothing was wrong—all was right in its mini version of the world.

When the sun was hanging above the horizon, lighting the world with its glow, Oddny crawled from her pallet of straw and shuddered. Compared to the warm womb of her bed, the air was a frozen slap to the face. She wrapped the elk fur tightly around herself and hobbled to the hearth.

It took a few moments for her to breathe life back into the embers. Once tiny flames licked the air, she took wood from the pile and slowly added them to the coals, giving the fire time to stoke before setting more down. She kept the heat low so it wouldn't crackle and pop, then scurried to the pot of stew and worked on heating that back up to an edible temperature.

She glanced over her shoulder. A faint scratching sound brought her attention back to the beetle. After a moment of contemplation, she shed her warm furs and coaxed the palm-sized insect onto her hand before moving it outside. The cold air hit her like a bull and she shuddered, closing the door half a heartbeat after opening it. Shivering, she looked at the bug still clinging to her fingers and set it back down on the floor.

"You can stay until it gets warm," she muttered, leaving it to its devices and scurrying back to her task. The morning frost had yet to melt.

Frits would be asleep until she cooked up something that smelled nice. She had no bread, though, and they had eaten all of the fish last night. It would have to be stew for breakfast with a side of buttermilk—or what was left of it.

The stew was safe to eat, the cold from the night keeping it chilled enough that it hadn't spoiled, but it wouldn't last the rest of the day.

All of that was okay.

They were going into town. Together. They would restock there.

Oddny's uncle woke when she was serving the meal into bowls. She heard him stir, then sneeze, and soon he appeared over the stove. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Oddny wondered if he slept at all during the night.

"Good morning, Uncle." The greeting was punctuated with an infectious smile.

He returned her grin with a nod, the corner of his lips tugging but never making it all the way. "Morning, Oddny."

She handed him his bowl and spoon. "This was all I could do. We need food."

Her uncle sighed and accepted the meager breakfast. "I know, I was holding out on getting more supplies until today. We'll get a few things to tide us over while we're in town, but most of the food I want to buy is dried goods we can take with us during our trip. Just enough rations to get us to the next town and buy more."

The piece of carrot she was chewing on fought her tooth and nail when she swallowed and she washed it down with her drink. Unable to contain her glee, she said, "When are we leaving?"

This time, he made a full-fledged smirk and shook his head. "You hate it here that much?"

Oddny's cheeks burned crimson and she stared down at her bowl of stew. "I don't  _hate_  it here. I just. . . ." She sighed and took another bite to keep herself from saying something dumb.

Chuckling, Uncle Frits said, "No, I know you miss your parents. It's been a long time."

"Yeah," she murmured, pushing a piece of bone around the brown liquid.

"Well," he said after gulping down a large bite. "We'll leave tomorrow first thing and use today to get ready for the trip."

It was hard for Oddny to finish her breakfast with the excited butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She made do, though, and when her bowl was empty she took her uncle's as well and cleaned them up. Oddny stared at the pot of almost-spoiled stew and sighed.

"Want me to dump this out? It's not going to be any good by the end of the day."

"Hmm?" Frits turned and spent some time contemplating. "No, we'll get rid of it when we come back from town. I have some appointments to make."

Nodding, Oddny covered the cauldron before neatly folding the furs she slept in.

"Uncle?"

"What?" He was busy changing his shirt.

"Where did you get these? I haven't seen them before."

He gave her a strange look and glanced down at the furs. He furrowed his brow, then opened his mouth in understanding. "They're Ca—your aunt's. I've had them for a while but never wanted to bring them out of storage. Did they keep you warm?"

Oddny fingered the wolf pelt in her hand and smiled. "They did."

Frits grunted, "Good. You ready to go?" but wouldn't look at her.

She patted her pants, straightened out her blouse, then gathered her parka in her arms and checked her shoes. Everything was in order—if a little threadbare—so she hunched her shoulders and took a deep breath. When her shoulders relaxed, she slipped her parka on and nodded.

"I'm ready."

*:･ﾟ✧

The town of Penshaw was nestled against the ocean and surrounded on all other sides by forest. There was never a slow day, for Penshaw's main gimmick was trading. Most of the residents lived in their various shops, with a few—such as Frits and Oddny—living semi-solitary lives in the woods, coming into town to shop or do other business.

Despite being close to the ocean, the town itself didn't possess any docks nearby. Most of the town boasted beautiful beaches instead, but there were places for ships to land along the northeast side, where the water receded and revealed a steep drop.

It wasn't often they received sea-faring visitors, but enough occasions presented themselves to warrant the building of wooden ports. The travel time from the harbor to the town proper was a short walk, the direction indicated by a posted sign. Any visitors had to navigate the foot path through the thick trees, but they always managed despite the dragons.

Never before had Oddny wandered so deep into the woods. The very same woods that she had always been taught to fear. Every falling branch or misplaced stone startled her into pressing close to Frits, who glanced at her every time.

He was a steady rock on his chosen path to town. It was easy to spot if one looked hard enough. Many years of walking to and from town had worn down the vegetation to leave packed dirt instead. He kept his eyes forward and gait even as they traveled, offering Oddny his arm as comfort and guide, not flinching once at any noises.

In that brief time, Oddny forgot that the dragons had all but gone missing. A dragon could swoop down from a tree and snatch her or her uncle up—she was certain of it. It was all he'd told her for the four years she'd lived there.

And yet, with possible danger lurking behind a bush, Uncle Frits continued onward like the beetle. Determined and unfettered.

Drawing some strength from him, Oddny took a deep breath and forged forward alongside him. This was all she'd wanted, and if her uncle could do it, then she certainly could as well. After cresting a small hill, the two travelers came face to face with a bird's eye view of the town and Oddny forgot her fears all at once.

She was out of the cabin.

The town was within sight.

 _This is really happening,_ she told herself.

Oddny chewed absently at her bottom lip, trying to stifle her smile. The sun was still a while from its midway point in the sky, and there was a ways to go yet.

At least a downhill trek would make it seem faster.

Her uncle smirked and patted the top of her head. "I brought your parents' letter. Did you want to try to read it while we finish the walk?"

She looked up at her uncle, unable to contain herself from breaking into a radiant beam. "Yes!" She couldn't believe she had forgotten all about it over the course of a single night, but she had been too excited at the prospect of going into town and going home, on top of this walk through the dragon-haunted woods—the thought had been pushed from her mind despite herself.

He removed a folded piece of parchment from inside his parka and smoothed it out. After handing it over to Oddny, he started them down the hill.

Taking a deep breath, Oddny let her eyes flit over the scrawled lettering before diving into the initial greeting. She didn't need advanced reading training to know what those three words said: Mother and Father always used the same greeting.

"'Our dearest Oddny,'" she said with confidence, blinking away the beginnings of tears. Frits hummed his approval.

"'We were so ha-happy when your. . . ," she struggled a moment but figured it out with some coaxing from Uncle Frits, "'uncle sent the letter saying he would be able to bring you h-home. We have been sending him what we can to help fund the trip and are glad he's using it wisely.'"

Nodding, her uncle murmured, "You're better. Your parents might actually believe that I've been trying to teach you."

She glanced up at him with some pride and took a short break to read over the first part again.

_If Mother and Father were sending Uncle Frits things, does that mean that the farm is doing better now?_

Oddny's heart trembled and she worried her hands, losing concentration long enough to almost trip on a large rock in her path, so stuck to the letter was her gaze. Why hadn't Frits told her any of that?

_Maybe he just wanted to surprise me._

Frits urged her to continue and she tried to oblige. "What's this word?"

He stooped down to lean over her shoulder, followed her indicating finger, and offered, "These letters make an 'o' sound when they're together like that."

"Oh, okay. Um, 'Though it may be a little while longer until we are able to see you again, we simply can't wait.

"'Your father and I wanted to wait until you were here with us to tell you, and leave this as a surprise, but I don't think I can contain myself. You may need time to prepare anyway, but—you have a brother! A new baby brother. Isn't that exciting, my love?'"

Again, it took a while for her to finish up, and then she needed another few beats to digest what she had just read. Frits watched, waiting for her to realize, and smiled at her dumbstruck expression.

"I'm. . .I have a little brother? What's his name? Does it say?" she chattered, grabbing his arm and tugging on it with enthusiasm. "How old is he? Like an actual baby or is he a couple years old now? Does Mom say?"

He chuckled and pulled his arm from her grasp. "Well, finish reading and maybe we'll find out."

"You finish! Please? So I can just listen! I'll read it later, I promise," she begged, waving the crinkled parchment before him.

"Alright, alright." He took the message from her. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and searched for where she'd left off. "Ah, here we go. 'His name is Sven and he'll be eight months old by the time you read this. I just know you're going to love him. We can't wait to see you again and how much you've grown. We miss you and we love you, dear. We'll see you soon."

Frits lowered the letter and took a breath. "'Love; Mom, Dad, and baby Sven.'"

Oddny plucked the parchment from his hands when he showed it to her and stared at the writing etched on it, reading it in a much longer amount of time. "This one here, written like this, that's 'Sven', right? His name?" she asked.

Her uncle leaned in and pointed to the closing sentiment. "Yes, and again right here."

Oddny spent the rest of the journey to Penshaw re-reading the letter until it was committed to memory. She knew her parents' names in writing already—Gris and Pernilla Skovgaard—though they never referred to themselves by name in her letters. One of the first things Frits had spent a few days teaching her was how to spell their names, his, and her own.

Maybe, during their long trip to her parents' farm, he'd be able to teach her even more. He barely had much time between work, instead leaving her with some phonetic keys to practice on her own. With her own chores to worry about, learning the skill had fallen to the wayside.

But now they'd have plenty of time, more than a moon probably.

Upon reaching the town, they were greeted by lounging soldiers who nodded at them with stiff and nonchalant greetings. They were sat at a station playing a board game Oddny found vaguely familiar. However, once past the outpost and into the more heavily populated town center, the greetings were warmer and it wasn't long before the pair were surrounded by citizens.

"Frits is this your little niece?"

"She's a lot older than I thought she was."

"She's so cute!"

"Your name's Oddny, right?"

Questions piled on questions and she pressed closer to Uncle Frits' side and looked on in bewilderment at the new faces peering at her, finding nothing familiar since passing through four years ago. Uncle never spoke much about the other citizens of Penshaw, so she hadn't the slightest idea who any of the people around them were.

Frits set his hand on her head and both of them backed away from the crowd. "Alright, alright, calm down everyone. Yes, this is my niece Oddny. I'm sure she'd love to get to know you all better, but we have some appointments to make," he said, raising his voice enough to be heard.

It was the first time Oddny had heard him speak loudly outside of his drunken rampages.

The small crowd still managed to stick around long enough to introduce themselves to Oddny, though the names all went through one ear and out the other.

At last, they irritated even Frits to the point where he dragged Oddny away from the nosy onlookers and into a large thatch building. It was hot and humid inside compared to the almost-winter of the outside world, beading Oddny's brow with sweat. A hefty woman with light, braided hair was standing next to a large wooden basin, dropping hot coals into the water.

She turned as they enter and grinned.

"Frits! Right on time. And this must be Oddny." She approached them with open arms and embraced a reluctant Frits before turning to Oddny and crushing her in an embrace. "He talks about you all the time! My name is Marta, dear, I run this bathhouse."

Oddny was released and she inhaled deeply, rubbing her aching chest. "It's—nice to—meet you," she wheezed.

Marta waved an errant hand, seemingly obliviously to having almost broken the girl in half. Oddny rubbed at her sternum and suppressed a cough so she wouldn't interrupt Marta when she said, "Frits never told me how big you were! But this bath should still be perfect for you. You know, Frits, you shouldn't keep a girl her age locked in a cabin all her years."

He averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his head. "I was worried."

The large woman's expression softened. "I understand, dear. But it's been years and the dragons haven't been around in ages. She needs to socialize!"

"I know, sorry." His tone was placating.

With a flourished turn, Marta's attention came back to Oddny and she fluttered her hands toward the bathing tub. "I've soaked all of my best herbs in this bath so please, take your time and lavish! We'll be in the room over here, so holler if you need something."

She stopped by the front door first to slide a board over the lock to keep people out, then dragged Frits past a heavy curtain. Oddny found herself alone in the warm room and she looked around at the decorative beads and baubles. Candles lit the otherwise dark room—windowless to deter any prying eyes—and added to the warmth.

Once Oddny was sure they weren't going to come back anytime soon, she disrobed and slipped into the large basin, avoiding the coals in case they were still hot. Back at Frits' cabin, she bathed semi-regularly, but in lukewarm water at best. Some days it was a few degrees above freezing.

Whatever herbs Marta soaked into the water smelled irresistible as she lowered herself into the opaque liquid. Steam wafted into her vision and she sighed with content. After a moment of relishing in the feeling of heat enveloping her, she found a crude bar of beige-colored soap sitting on a table nearby. Real soap! Something she hadn't seen in. . . .

_Have I even ever seen real soap?_

For a time that wasn't nearly long enough, she was care-free and in pure bliss. She did as Marta said and lavished until the woman appeared to make sure she hadn't drowned.

*:･ﾟ✧

Clean and feeling more relaxed than she had since coming to live there, Oddny followed after Frits as he led her to their next destination on her uncle's schedule. Their second stop had been to another building full of brightly-dressed women who braided her hair into complex plaits and added a few small flowers for an added touch.

"Won't I just get dirty during the trip? And my hair won't stay this pretty after I sleep on it," she said, her hands hovering over her scalp.

Frits shrugged. "Think of it as an apology for the last six years. You deserve one day of pampering after being a prisoner for so long." He looked away when their eyes met and sighed. "I only did it because I was scared. You know that, right?"

Oddny swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I know."

After a moment's pause, he asked, "Do you hate me?"

She looked up at him so fast her neck popped. Oddny winced and rubbed the spot that hurt and said, "No, I don't hate you. But I'm glad you finally let me out of that stinky old hut of yours."

"Stinky?" He was concerned and glanced down at her.

However, she was smiling a cheeky grin. He smirked back at her and shook his head. "Whatever you say, Oddny."

The subject was dropped and Oddny sighed under her breath. She didn't know how much mirth she could fake, but it was enough to keep him from prying any further into her feelings about him. Hate was a strong word, and though she understood his reasoning behind it, it didn't fully keep her from somewhat resenting the man.

They approached a smaller building and were greeted by an older couple who introduced themselves as Heidrek and Ida Halson. Frits spoke with them briefly, and they waved Oddny inside.

Her uncle waited outside for her, speaking to Heidrek about the payment they arranged. Most of it was built up favors over the years—the bath was paid for in dozens of wedding invitations when Marta's nephew was married—which left the money he'd saved to pay for provisions for their trip.

For the Halson couple, Frits had agreed to help them rearrange and redecorate their store front. It wasn't quite an even trade compared to their normal prices, but when Frits explained what it was for, they waived any extra fees and called it even. They were more than happy to accommodate for Frits' mysterious niece.

Ida pulled open the door and the two turned. She stood, hunched, in front of the door and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"How'd we do?" Heidrek asked, his voice gruff with age.

His wife grinned and said, "Take a look for yourself. Come out, dearie."

When she stepped aside, Oddny strode from the building, no longer donning her old outfit of tattered pants, short and pleated skirt, old borrowed blouse, and parka. Instead, she was wearing a new set of thick, brown leggings tucked into a pair of white-and-gray striped stockings. Her greenish-brown shirt was finely embroidered and covered by a knee-length apron dress with gold stitching. Her shirt was cuffed at the elbows, and she had her parka in her arms. She still wore her old boots, but they were in good condition and didn't need replacing.

Frits rubbed the back of his head and made a crooked smile. "That, uh, suits you a lot better than the stuff I've been buying for you. . .sorry."

Oddny smiled sheepishly and smoothed out her apron dress, though it was already free of wrinkles. The clothes themselves were warm enough, but gooseflesh pricked at her forearms and a chill chased down her spine. "It's okay."

He motioned toward her and shifted his weight. "Do you like it?"

She nodded and spun around once. "I do! Thank you. And thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Halson. It's really quite lovely," Oddny added, turning to the elderly couple and curtseying.

Ida smiled and patted Oddny on the shoulder. "Don't mention it, sweetie."

Smiling, Oddny faced her uncle and clasped her hands behind her back. "What other things do you have planned today?"

Her uncle shrugged and looked over her shoulder. "Some boring bartering over food and a horse. If you don't want to come with me for that stuff, you could explore the town. I know you've never been here before. There is usually some kids your age running around by the beach."

There was a reluctance to his voice as if it was hard to offer. Still, it made her heart soar. Finally, after all these years, he was giving her the freedom she had wished for.

After asking so many times, she would be able to explore and meet other people.

"Really? Are you sure?" she asked, hopeful but still weary.

Frits looked around the village. Everyone was milling and seemed content. It had been weeks since another dragon had been spotted, and that had been miles off shore. Sometimes one would pass by over the town, curious about the place, but it would never land nearby. The last time  _that_  happened had been two months prior.

"Yeah. Go have fun." His smile was hesitant, but he was trying. Despite his fears of letting Oddny around town, he felt he owed it to her. The dragon raids had continued for the first three years she'd lived with him, and he risked venturing into town to help pay for their food and other necessities.

And, if he died, he knew Oddny had a place to go. Anyone in Penshaw would have come to take her. He didn't know what he would do if he lost her. Thus, it was easier to keep her at the cabin.

Oddny waited to see if he would change his mind, but he only nodded in encouragement.

She felt like she was flying and couldn't help the squeal that slipped past her lips. Oddny clapped her hands once and turned to run off, but stopped. After a pause, she spun on her heel and jogged back to her uncle. Without faltering, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him for several seconds. Frits, for a moment, was shocked. He stood still, then took great care in returning the embrace. When Oddny's arms relaxed, he let her go.

"Thank you," she said, grinning up at him. He found no words, sufficing to sniff loudly and nod. Her smile became amused and she twirled once more to head toward the beach, where Frits said she could find others her age.

He watched her progress, and then Ida tapped him on the stomach with the back of her hand. Frits hummed and looked down at her.

"She does look like your wife."

Lips thinning into a line, Frits nodded. "Yeah. Has her mom's eyes though."

Ida nodded—Heidrek was back inside their house, fretting over an order for a frock—and the two of them watched Oddny take in the sights. The young girl glanced back at them occasionally, waving to let them know she was okay.

They would wave back, and Frits waited until she was out of sight to wish Ida a good day and continue about his errands, unaware that it would be the last time he would see his niece.


	3. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> Last one of the batch for this month. That's my three chapter quota lolol. I hope to have more chapters edited by next month! Fizzle has been great with these chapters and a big help. I feel more confident going forward from here, and hopefully, I don't tire my poor beta out and send 'em running lmao. If you guys have any suggestions on how I could improve this story, PLEASE do not hesitate to speak up! I will never get angry for helpful and constructive criticism.
> 
> Chapter three changelog: Hope I made the introduction of the group more fluid and less expository. MORE INTROSPECTION. I gave Koll an accent since I kind of hinted he had one compared to Oddny and those of Penshaw. Rearranged some things.
> 
> ~ Crayola

The unknown awaited Oddny as she followed the cobbled path through town toward the ocean. The last time she had been with someone her own age was back at her parent's home town—another little girl. They had played dolls, but not often since riding in from the far was a big hassle.

What did teenagers like to do? Dolls were probably out of the question.

She paced the course line of vegetation growing in the sand, uncertain if she should progress any deeper; the beach was passed a small maritime forest that blocked Penshaw from view. Further ahead, over the sound of voices, waves broke ashore—she was already so close.

Doubt froze her in place mid-step.

_Will they like me? What if they're mean? What's the point? We're leaving tomorrow._

A girl screamed and giggled out of sight—the sound was followed by excited shouts. Though their words were unintelligible, there was fun waiting for her on the other side. Curiosity won out over the anxiety. She stepped forward to the edge of the trees and pressed herself to the trunk of one of the last, looking for the source of the noises.

Though she knew it was predatory and creepy, she clung to the bark and peered out, hoping no one would notice her until she was ready.

Two boys, while holding a string of dripping seaweed, ran after a pair of girls and a third boy cheered and laughed from the sidelines. Being chased in any manner seemed less than fun, but the girls were giggling and enjoying themselves nonetheless.

Her hands gripped the hem of her apron dress and she inhaled deeply. Frits had done all of this for her—Oddny had a new outfit, was clean as a whistle, and her hair was pristine. She'd wanted so bad to visit the town and make friends and now was her chance. So what if she was going home the next day? At least she would be able to tell her parents she had a few friends.

At least she would have one or two stories to share.

With a new found confidence, Oddny pushed away from the tree and smoothed her clothes out before patting down her braids to make sure no hair was out of place, despite the breeze that tugged at her. She took two deep breaths—in through her nose, out through her mouth—and strode down the slope toward the group.

When she was half way across the sand, the third boy noticed her. He was the spitting image of one of the girls—both were around five and a half feet with slight curls and a ruddy color, though he was clearly older than his sister by a margin.

Her steps had lost some of the poise she had gathered, replaced instead with a soft gait and nervous glances.

"Oi! We got a live one," he shouted to the group.

Oddny's steps faltered as the rest turned to look at her. The boys dropped their seaweed and jogged to join the first, the girls soon following. Oddny considered turning and fleeing—maybe approaching them had been a bad idea.

_Should I say something? What do I do?_

Her mouth worked, but no words formed.

Snickering, one of the boys in a yak-fur parka lifted a hand in greeting. His hair was a striking color of sand. He was somewhere in the middle age-wise, with the youngest being the first boy's sister.

"Hello," he called out to her. "You visiting?"

Even though she had her opening, Oddny had yet to find her voice.

Before the situation could become more awkward, she decided on something to say. "I live with my uncle, Frits Iversen."

"The guy who writes letters?" the older of the two girls asked, managing to sound patronizing.

Nodding, Oddny added, "My name is Oddny Skovgaard."

The five of them introduced themselves one by one and Oddny tried to commit them to memory. Marit Ekland was distinguishable from the younger Signy Blomgren (her brother, Skuli, had noticed Oddny first) due to her lighter hair color and rouge-tinted cheeks. The largest, and oldest, member of the teenage group was Vermund Dahl. Hals Poulsen had greeted her earlier.

When pleasantries were exchanged, Marit cocked her head to the side and asked, "Why haven't we seen you in town if you've been living with him? He comes all the time for his work."

Oddny lowered her head and fidgeted with her fingers. "He um. . .didn't want me to."

"Why?" Hals asked.

She looked between their faces and shrugged. "I don't know. He was—well do you know about my aunt? Calla?"

"Oh yeah. . .she and like, three other people were killed in a dragon raid," Vermund recalled with a sage nod. "So I take it he didn't really want you to get eaten up on your way into town, does that sound about right?"

"Yes," Oddny admitted.

"Well that's a drag," Skuli scoffed.

The two Blomgren siblings had remained quiet for most of the interaction, hanging behind the other three. It was Signy who spoke up next, her voice quiet and sympathetic. "What did you do to entertain yourself?"

"I cleaned. . .cooked food. Sometimes I'd explore the forest and stay within sight of the cabin," she said, looking down at the ground. "But I'm here now."

Life at Frits' cabin was not what she had come to speak about. The five of them seemed nice, but they asked more questions than she had expected. In hindsight, it should have been obvious since she had planned to rely on them to drive conversation.

Skuli's neutral expression morphed into a devious smirk. "Exploring, huh? We were just talking about doing some exploring a few minutes ago."

Marit rolled her eyes. "Skuli, no one wants to hear about your mysterious dragon."

His sister was quick to stand up for him. "We did see it go into the woods by the docks, though. Last night. Aren't you a little bit curious?"

Oddny looked between them, unsure if she should join in.

Vermund rolled his shoulders. He was built for manual labor, muscle constructed from years of smithing with his father. "You two seem pretty sure, but who's to say it's even there anymore? It was probably finding somewhere to sleep for the night."

"Okay, maybe, but would you rather stay here and look at the same crabs and seaweed we always do?" Skuli countered.

Oddny was a few thoughts away from leaving when they looked at her.

"What do you think, Oddny?" Hals asked.

She studied the five of them and chose honesty above the other answers that flit through her mind. "Well," she said after minor hesitation, "I've never seen a dragon before. . .I lived too far inland on my parents' farm. Not enough fish for them, I think. And with my uncle keeping me in the cabin—"

Skuli clapped his hands loud enough to startle her, but the reaction went unnoticed by the rest. "Then it's settled! The new girl hasn't ever seen a dragon before, so we gotta go find it."

"Well hang on," Hals said, "what kind of dragon did you think you saw?"

"Why does that matter?"

He snorted. "It only matters  _a lot_. I hear some are more dangerous than others."

Marit scoffed and shoved him. He was solid enough that it shouldn't have moved him, but he leaned away from her all the same. "And what makes you the dragon expert all of a sudden?"

Before he could answer, Signy shook her head. "It doesn't matter, we don't know what it was."

"Yeah, we didn't see it  _that_  well."

"Alright, alright," Vermund said, raising his hands up. "All in favor of taking an adventure to the forest and hunting down a dragon?"

Skuli, Signy, and even Vermund raised their hands before looking expectantly to Oddny, who was feeling more and more like a trapped deer. She looked between them, then slowly lifted her hand as well, hoping she didn't disappoint anyone.

Hals and Marit sighed, and Vermund grinned. He said, "Well, that's majority."

"Why does the new girl get a vote?"

Signy smacked Marit's arm and glared. "Don't be rude just because you lost."

"Yeah Marit, don't be rude," Signy's brother echoed.

She groaned and tossed her arms up. "Well how about you four go and get yourselves eaten? I should go back and help my mom anyway. She didn't look happy when she told me to take the day to hang out with you guys."

"Your mom  _never_  looks happy," Vermund pointed out.

"Just like you, Marit!" Skuli jibed.

When she reached out to grab him, he moved out of the way and she growled. "Whatever, I'm going. Hals, are you going to join them in their suicide pact?"

He shrugged. "Probably. I mean, it's better than going home and helping haul grain. There might not even be a dragon there anymore if it was just holing up for the night. If we do find it, it's not like we're going to try to give it a hug—just look at it. Right?"

"Sure," Skuli said, sarcasm dripping from the word. "Whatever you say."

"I swear to Odin, I will not rescue you when you are in the thing's jaws," Hals muttered.

Oddny managed a smile, feeding off the rest of the group, but Marit still wasn't impressed. She huffed and started toward town. "Yeah, okay, have fun dying."

They watched her until she was in the trees, and then Vermund told Skuli to lead the way. He did so with joy. Vermund followed after him, walking side-by-side with Hals, and Oddny took up the rear with Signy flanking her.

"Hey," she said, voice quiet again.

"Yes?" Oddny replied sheepishly.

Signy's smile was warm. "I like your hair. Did Marthe do it?"

"Um. . . ." Oddny thought back to the woman who braided her hair for her and tried to recollect the name. "I think that was her name. I. . .met a lot of people today."

She chuckled. "I'm sure that it's a bit overwhelming. Marthe is Marit's mom, is why I ask."

"Oh. If I had known I would have—"

The other girl shook her head. "Oh no don't worry about it. I was just saying, that's all. Didn't want to make you feel bad."

A blush reddened Oddny's cheeks and she looked away from Signy. "Sorry."

As they trekked further into the woods, the sand gave way to turf and the five of them disappeared into the trees. Conversation centered around teasing Skuli about his dragon sighting, banter Oddny didn't participate in. They navigated the forest with relative ease, but after the hundredth time of climbing over stumps and ducking under branches, Hals grew irritated.

"Do you even know where you're going?" he demanded.

Skuli waved his hand behind him. "Yeah, yeah. It's in the general area. I mean, we saw it from the house. It's not like we were with it when it landed."

Vermund groaned. "You have us on a wild goose chase, don't you?"

Signy said, "Cut us a break, isn't this still better than getting sand in our boots?"

"Just barely," Hals huffed.

"Well, Oddny's having fun. Aren't you Oddny?" Signy said with a turn of her head. Oddny paled and shrank under the sudden attention. Sure, it was nice to be included with the rest of the group, but there had to have been a better way to do it.

"Um—I mean more fun than I would be having back at my uncle's cabin," she admitted with an unsure smile. Signy returned the gesture to encourage her.

"Shh—wait wait," Skuli hissed, extending both of his hands to silence everyone.

They waited a few moments but heard nothing except the sound of birds. Hals raised his eyebrows and tossed his arms. "Wait for what?"

"Shut up!" Skuli commanded.

Under his rule, everyone waited with baited breath, afraid of invoking Skuli's wrath should they make a sound too soon. Time stretched on and everyone was starting to lose their patience and fidget. Just when Vermund was about to break the silence himself, the sound they were waiting for reached their ears—a mournful groaning that rose on the wind like a ghost's wail.

"What in Valhalla is that?" Vermund whispered, looking around.

"Why. . .could it be our dragon?" Skuli snickered, walking backward with his arms wide. He took a bow and spun on his heel. "This way to magic and adventure."

Signy motioned for Oddny to follow and they were off into the forest again, following the mysterious noise. They moved away from the docks and deeper into the forest, rendering them unable to notice the single vessel anchored at port.

Oddny jogged to catch up after pausing a moment and decided she couldn't remain silent forever, speaking only when prompted. "Do you think it's hurt? It sounds kind of sad."

Vermund glanced over his shoulder at her. "Who knows. If we can find it, we'll figure it out."

"What would we do if it's hurt, anyway?" Hals asked skeptically.

She shrugged and worried one of her braids. "I don't know," she admitted.

Everyone shared a few chuckles at her expense—or at least she thought it was at her expense— but Hals shook his head and said, "You're alright, new girl," and Skuli lead them onward.

All things considered, Oddny was satisfied, though she could have gone without being called  _new girl_. They were friendly enough and had already invited her on a forest exclusion barely after making it through introductions. On top of everything, her fleeting dreams of seeing a real, live dragon seemed to be coming true. Especially with how loud the moans were to her ears now.

_I hope it's not just some elk or boar we're hearing. . . ._

Deep down she was aware she should be terrified at the prospect of being close to a dragon. After all, it was such vile beasts that were responsible for Aunt Calla's death and her uncle's condition. Perhaps it was so she could see for herself how terrible they were.

If they were the things Uncle Frits had said in the first place.

Her current group of companions had been young during the time of the raids, but they remembered them all the same. Giant monsters that could light themselves on fire, swift ones that fired spikes, some that could make themselves invisible, and even sea serpents that spat boiling water.

Skuli liked to boast he had seen a dragon wearing bone armor, but the others always brushed it aside as another of his tall tales, even if he did insist.

The closer they travelled to the noise, the more it became obvious it wasn't caused by local grazing animals, but something larger. As Oddny had observed upon first hearing the lament, it was similar to a wounded or trapped animal.

When they approached a small clearing, where the howling was originating, Vermund put a finger to his lips to signal for silence. It didn't do much to quiet their footsteps, though, and the whining ceased. Still, the five pushed onward until they broke through the foliage and found their goal nestled on the ground.

"See? We weren't making it up," Signy murmured.

It was smaller than Oddny would have guessed. She had always expected, from the way Uncle Frits told the stories, that they were enormous. The one on the ground trapped under a heavy net, however, wasn't as large as her uncle had made them seem.

Of course, it was still much larger than the tallest man she knew. It was very round and covered in dull spikes. Tiny wings were pinned against it's thick, rock-like hide and it had a dangerous club for a tail. It's bright yellow eyes glared at them from under its prison. The group kept their distance, but inched forward a few more paces.

"What kind is this?" Vermund asked.

Its deep azure hide faded into a light brown for its underbelly. Teeth jutted out from its under bite, lining its huge jaw.

Made for crushing rocks.

Everyone shrugged and shared glances, but Hals finally spoke up. "I think this is the kind that eats rocks and spits lava."

"Why isn't it spitting lava to escape the net?"

"Maybe it's out of fuel?"

The dragon snorted and its short legs scrabbled at the ground, but the net was tied firmly and no matter how hard it struggled, it couldn't free itself.

"Should we free it?" Signy asked.

Her brother shook his head. "No way. It'll turn on us and eat us as soon as it's free."

"Who left the trap?" Oddny wondered, unable to look away from the dragon. It kept switching its gaze around all of them, never lingering more than a few heartbeats—unwilling to give them any time to make any strange moves. "Are you guys trying to capture dragons for some reason?"

They shook their heads and Hals said, "No, nothing like that."

"Yeah, I don't know who put this together," Vermund added. "It could have been meant for different prey, but none of the hunters here use this kind of trap."

Oddny's heart tugged at the sight of the imprisoned dragon. When they first arrived, it had challenged them, but now it seemed resigned. It had even ceased watching them and had moved to pretending they weren't there. "We can't just leave it here like this," she said.

"Why not?" Hals asked. He was already backing toward the tree line toward Penshaw.

"It seems too sad."

"I'm with Oddny," Signy said. "We don't have to pull the net all the way off. Does anyone have a knife? We'll just cut some of it so it can free itself after we leave."

The three boys rooted around in their clothes until Vermund produced a small blade from his waistline. He held it out at arm's length and stared at everyone in turn. "Alright, so who wants to get close enough to cut the ropes?"

No one spoke up for the longest time. Oddny waited, and then Skuli was the first to speak. "Why don't we make the new girl do it?"

She took a step back in surprise. "Me? Why?"

Hals snickered. "Yeah, sure. It could be her initiation into the group."

Signy put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys. "Don't be mean. We don't need to haze new friends into anything."

Vermund shrugged. "Why don't we just ask her?"

All eyes turned to Oddny and she balked under their gazes. Skuli was chuckling to himself and Hals was smirking. She turned away from them and looked to the trapped dragon, who still refused acknowledge them. Oddny rubbed her hands and took another step back. "I. . .I don't know."

If it did react negatively and attacked, Uncle Frits would never recover. These things killed humans, maybe ate them. It looked so dejected—so defeated.

 _This isn't what I imagined a dragon would be like,_  she thought, almost as forlorn as the dragon.

"She's  _scared_ ," Skuli jeered.

His sister slapped him. "So are you, idiot."

The taunt did its job, though, when coupled with the expression on the dragon's face. Oddny's hands clenched into determined fists and she moved to take the knife from Vermund before she could overthink it. "No. . .no I'll do it."

"You don't have to," Signy insisted.

Oddny shook her head and held the knife in both hands. "No, I know. I will, though. One of our cattle was caught in a boar trap once, back with my parents. . .I think I can do it."

Though Signy's brow was furrowed in worry, the three boys were smiling. This was her chance to impress them, and the fact that it seemed to be working filled her with false bravado. The dragon was trapped—for now. It couldn't hurt her, and they would be gone by the time it freed itself. If anything, she would feel better knowing she had done something to help the creature.

"Alright, the new girl's got guts. Just go cut the net a little bit. It should be able to escape on its own after that," Vermund surmised, motioning toward the netted beast.

Nodding, Oddny faced the dragon and started to inch toward it with small steps. The slight movement caught its attention and its piercing gaze snapped to her. Oddny froze, waiting for it to do anything, but it returned to ignoring her so she pushed onward.

Maneuvering toward its back, she made careful progress until she was so close she could touch it. However, she quashed the desire to pet such a dangerous animal and picked out lengths of the rope and began sawing at it. For now, the brief contact of her fingertips against its hide would have to suffice. She kept one eye on the dragon as one link snapped, waiting for a reaction, but once again it was making a point to pretend she didn't exist.

Still, she could hear soft growling rumbling in its chest.

"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm gonna make sure you can get out. No need to try to eat me. Everything's okay. I'm not a tasty rock." Remembering what Hals had said about the species brought her some relief. If it liked chewing on rocks, it wouldn't want her bones.

Signy called to her in a loud whisper. "Just a few more links, Oddny."

She concentrated on working through the material. A second bond broke and she stopped to listen. "Did you guys hear footsteps?"

"What? No. Hurry!" Hals hissed.

Unconvinced, Oddny listened harder. She was certain there were twigs snapping and branches moving within the woods. The sounds were getting closer. Was it another dragon? Not wanting to find out, she pushed her arm to its limit to cut through the net.

The stomping was too close. She tugged at another binding and when it came apart, she decided it was good enough and stood up just as a large man, one of the largest Oddny had ever seen—not that she'd met many people—stepped out of the trees. A heavy, double-sided axe was attached at his hip and he was heavily armored. His appearance had her jumping back in surprise.

"What 'ave we here?" he growled, brow furrowed and teeth bared. "A couple rodents sniffing where they don't belong?

"Scatter!" Skuli shouted behind her.

They broke apart and bolted into the woods, and Oddny whirled around to do the same, but the man moved too fast and was too close to her. He lunged and grabbed a hold of her arm, yanking her backward and threatening to rip her shoulder from its socket. She cried out in pain and struggled to keep her footing.

"Let go! Guys! Help!" she yelled, trying to pry the man's fingers from her arm.

However, her new "friends" were gone already, disappeared into the woods. They'd left her alone with this bear of a man.

"Tiny lass," he observed, lifting her off her feet after adjusting his grip to under her arm.

Behind them, the bulky dragon was busy slipping from underneath the net. Startled by the arrival of the new man and all of the screaming, it was spurred into action. The man dropped Oddny when he noticed it and moved to stop the dragon, but it tossed the net and fled out from under his nose, those small wings lifting it into the air despite its bulk.

Oddny, holding her shoulder, scrambled to her feet and started to run to safety, but once again she was snatched up and lifted from her feet. She hadn't even made it four steps. "Where're ya going? Ya just cost me a dragon," he barked. His voice was gruff and accented with a slightly different dialect, but she understood him clear enough.

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, tears welling in her eyes and her heart slamming against her ribcage. "I didn't know! I just felt sorry for it, I didn't know it belonged to someone!"

He harrumphed and narrowed his eyes at her. "What's yer name?"

She wiggled in his grasp, shoulder straining and her other hand trying to pull the rest of her weight up to relieve the ache. "Ah—

_No! Don't tell him your real name._

Impatient and angry, he snarled at her. "Yer  _name_ , whelp!"

Oddny swallowed and said the first name that came to her mind. "Calla. I'm Calla."

The man lowered her until her feet touched the ground, but didn't remove his ironclad grip. His penetrating glare cut right through her as he scowled, contemplating what to do with this newfound information. He was clean-shaven, save for some stubble. "Eh? Calla, then. What d'ya propose we do 'bout this? Ya owe me one dragon."

Though she tugged at her arm, he had no intention of letting her go. "I don't know. What—I can go to town and. . .maybe the townsfolk will compensate you? I don't know what else—what do you want? I can't—I can't get you another dragon. I don't know how!"

Understanding her through the tears and held-back sobs was difficult, but he managed. She looked terrified out of her mind and her vain struggling was almost cute. It had been his job to check the trap this time and he'd promised not to come back empty handed. The dragon had escaped, but he had another prey within grasp.

"Maybe ya can work off yer debt," he suggested with a leer.

She went rigid and started trembling. "Wh-what?"

Before she could blink, he hauled Oddny up and tossed her over his armored shoulder, driving some of the air from her lungs. She grunted and kicked, but he hardly felt her weight let alone the feeble attempt to defend herself.

"Please! Please let me go! Where are you taking me?" she sobbed, beating her fists against his back with no effect.

"Tell me, lass, 'ave ya ever been on a boat?"


	4. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> This month was a doozy. I went to Texas for 4 days to attend my sister's wedding, but I still managed to finish up three chapters! So, here's another rapid-fire style update. The changes I made to the following chapters are more extensive than the first three, so it's been quite some trial and error. I'm SO MUCH HAPPIER with it now, though! They don't feel so rushed. 
> 
> Changelog: Beefed up some of the scenes, making the word count a bit higher. It's altogether more fleshed out, and there's an extra scene added at the end. I think it's still one of the shorter chapters, but that's okay!
> 
> ~ Crayola

The fearful group of teenagers sprinted through the forest at varying intervals, but never far from one another and always within sight. Each of them could feel their hearts slam against their rib cages, and they were nearing to collapse. However, they ran on. Mob mentality told them to head to one place.

Penshaw.

It was a small town, and they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they had never seen that angry, brutish man before.

When they broke through the trees, they found themselves back at the beach. Not one of them stopped there to celebrate such a small triumph. They continued until the path leading into Penshaw was under foot. Only when they spotted their parents within a small crowd did they dare allow themselves to slow down and relax. Among the adults gathered was Oddny's uncle, the others being Skuli and Signy's parents. They had been busy negotiating on strips of dried meat when their mother had spotted them coming.

"Where's the fire, kids?" one of the grown-ups asked, bemused.

Panting and gasping for air, all four attempted to speak at once.

"Woah woah, children, what's wrong? Catch your breaths first," the siblings' father—Erik—said with hands raised. His wife, Ulla, opened her arms and welcomed Signy into an embrace, who was shaking. "Now, why don't you tell us what has you all riled up? Slowly, one at a time."

"We went into the woods because Skuli said he saw a dragon," Hals offered, words tumbling.

Vermund picked up the story; he had caught his breath the fastest and was able to enunciate better. "We found the dragon in a trap and were going to free it."

The adults shared horrified glances but found it impossible to interrupt.

"Someone showed up!" Signy gasped.

"Who did?" Ulla asked, smoothing down Signy's hair while she embraced her daughter.

Skuli opened his arms wide. "This. . .really big guy. Bigger even than the soldiers!"

Frits stepped up and peered over their heads, worry lines creasing his brow. "Have you children seen my niece? She's about your age, Signy. Braided hair? Yay tall?" He held his hand up as a marker. "I sent her to the beach to find you guys."

"Is her name Oddny?" Vermund clarified.

"Yes. You saw her?"

The teenagers turned to look behind them and Signy choked out a sob when there was no sign of the other young lady. "She was—she was  _right_  behind us! We  _all_  ran. He looked so mad that we were trying to free the dragon and he had this huge axe! So we ran! She was right there—she was with us!"

"What  _dragon_? Why would you even go near it!" Ulla demanded, holding her daughter out at arm's length with a serious expression.

"You kids know better than that!" Erik added.

Frits' face paled and he brushed passed the lecturing couple and jogged toward the beach. "Oddny? Oddny?" he shouted.

After looking at the others, Vermund joined Frits. If he could help, he could at least escape being berated by angry parents. They never should have gone anywhere near that dragon, but it had looked harmless trapped as it was.

They'd been ready for an angry dragon, not an angry man.

Signy and Skuli's father looked up from his son and daughter, then set his hands on Skuli's shoulders and took a breath. "What's done is done. We'll discuss your decision making skills later. Right now, you need to fetch the guards. Tell them there might be Vikings about."

"Vikings?" Skuli repeated, voice shaking.

"Just go."

He nodded and ran further into town without further stalling. Erik made sure he did as he was told, then turned to his wife. "Take these other two home. Signy, where's Marit?"

"She went home—before we went into the forest," she responded through broken sobs.

"Okay. Good. Don't worry, everything's going to be okay. I'm going to go help them look. Maybe she got separated and lost in the woods, but we'll find her," he assured them, kissing Signy on the head before jogging to catch up with Frits and Vermund.

"No—No, let me help," Signy begged, trying to pry herself away from her mother.

Ulla would have none of it. "Not a chance! It's bad enough one child is missing. And you can barely stand. Come, come inside and get a drink."

The protest died in her throat and Signy merely nodded as her mother dragged her inside. Hals followed, eyes locked on the ground with an unseeing expression. He was certain Oddny had been right behind them. . . .

Erik caught up swiftly and clapped his hand on Frits' shoulders, making the slighter man jump. "We'll find her, friend. The woods are large and easy to lose direction in."

It went without saying how easily it would have been for someone like Oddny to lose her way.

Though terse, Frits managed to force a smile and nodded. "You're probably right."

Erik pat his shoulder once more then shifted his gaze to Vermund. "Show us where you children found the dragon."

"What if the Viking is still there?"

"If he is, we'll try to deal with him and keep him talking. Skuli should be along with the soldiers shortly after us if we need protection." Under his breath he added, "And hope there's only the one."

After a moment of hesitation, Vermund relented and headed once more into the forest with both men flanking him. They regularly called out for Oddny during their travels, but there was never a response. On top of it all, Vermund found it difficult follow the exact path they had taken before and it was hard to discern which clearing was the right one.

"How did you find it the first time?" Frits asked. Underneath his steady voice was a storm ready to break. His throat was raw from shouting for his niece.

Vermund sighed. "The dragon was making noises. We followed the sounds."

"What should we be looking for?" Erik pushed a branch out of his way and held it for the other two making up their search party.

The boy gestured widely in front of him, at nothing in particular. "There was a small clearing, and there should be a net. Or what's left of it."

Footsteps and breaking twigs caught their attention and the three tensed. The sound of feet beating the forest floor grew louder until a group of soldiers broke through the trees with Skuli at the head. Frits, Erik, and Vermund relaxed from their fight or flight postures.

"Skuli, go back to town," Erik ordered. "I'm glad you brought the soldiers, but go to your sister and mother now."

His son shook his head. "No way. It's my fault we can't find her. I want to help."

One of the soldiers stepped forward and said, "We didn't find her on the way here. Frits, you're her uncle right?"

He nodded. "That's right."

"Is there any way she could have run home?"

"No," he insisted, glancing at the ground. "No, I live on the opposite side of the town."

Lips pursed, the soldier looked around the forest. "Well, we have others back in town waiting to see if she shows up. They'll send a runner if she does. We'll check the docks so you four stay here and keep looking for her. Balder, Jarl, stay with them in case they run into this mystery Viking."

Saluting, the two soldiers left formation to join Erik's group. "Aye, Captain Oskar."

The two parties split to search for the missing girl. Frits gave everyone a quick run-down of what she looked like, and Vermund did his best to recount the Viking. He hadn't seen much of him, but the soldiers assured him that it was enough to work with.

Working tirelessly, they searched high and low through the woods until it was apparent they were not going to find her by merely shouting into the trees. Darkness was beginning to encroach, and the collective decided to bring in more help.

By the time the soldiers made it to the docks, the ship had already been swallowed by the horizon, taking her with it.

Dejected but still hanging on to hope, Erik and Frits returned with the two teens shortly after the soldiers had reported nothing at the docks. The four split up gather more volunteers to search, including the town's best hunter and tracker—Lorens Pilkvist.

"Where did you start? Before you chose to enter the woods?" he asked Vermund. Skuli had finally decided to stay behind, tired and hungry.

"Around here," Vermund replied, indicating toward the spot they'd left those sticks.

Nodding, the tracker asked nothing more. He stood in place for a moment, then waved the others back. They did as he gestured and then he pointed out. "The wind has blown some of it away, but your tracks are all over the place."

"It all just looks like mounds of sand," someone muttered.

"And that's why you're a soldier and not a tracker," Lorens harrumphed. "This way."

The group of townsfolk and soldiers followed along, keeping quiet to avoid breaking his concentration. Not much could have, though, so deep in thought was he.

Every now and again, he'd break the silence to point out something other than footprints; a tuft of hair from one of the kids' heads, stuck on a branch; a low-hanging branch with healthy leaves scattered beneath it where someone had pulled them off. He didn't divulge any in-depth tricks, just the occasional insight.

"There, you climbed up here. You left mud on the rock," he muttered to Vermund, pointing out the sign with a brief wave of his hand before forging onward.

Eventually, he was able to track the teenagers back to the exact clearing they'd encountered the dragon and the Viking. He fished around in the bushes and then pulled up lengths of rope. He lifted and showed his find to the others. "Was this the net the dragon was tangled in?"

Vermund stepped up and examined it, but what other net would it be?

"I mean, it looks like it."

The tracker gathered the rest of the rope and handed it to a nearby soldier. No use in wasting perfectly good material and leaving it in the woods. With his hands free, he examined the various footprints and clawprints left by the dragon and the children.

"Seems there was some sort of struggle," he muttered more to himself than to anyone.

Again, everyone shared a glance, but were still too nervous to speak.

"What does it mean, Lorens?" a soldier asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That there was a struggle," he grunted.

No one asked another stupid question. He isolated the Vikings tracks after close inspection and followed them toward the port.

Where they ended.

Lorens stood before the waterfront and shook his head. Captain Oskar felt brave enough to approach him and asked, "What say you?"

"He was carrying extra weight when he returned here," he recounted, arms crossed over his chest. He was a grizzled man well into his life. "Not dragging, like if he caught the dragon, but carrying. I'm afraid he probably took her."

Mutters rippled through the search party as the information was passed on.

The captain grimaced and rubbed his face. "And you're certain of this?"

Expression solid, Lorens locked eyes with the captain. "I have never been more certain. Her footsteps completely disappear. There is only the set she left when coming into the clearing with the rest. I wish it weren't true."

Taking a deep breath, Captain Oskar looked around the docks and brushed his hand over his beard. "Alright. Let's head back to town then. I will break the news to Frits. Again."

*:･ﾟ✧

Frits had opted out of the search. It had seemed more prudent that he check his cabin in case, by some stroke of luck, Oddny had found her way home. Upon finding neither hide nor hair of her, he'd returned to wait in his favorite tavern for the search party to return. There was never any new news. Whenever Frits bemoaned his decision to let Oddny out of his site, the barkeep would tell him the same thing in an attempt to placate him.

"No news is good news."

It only served to shut Frits up for a spell.

Not soon enough, someone threw the door open to the tavern. Behind them, rain had started to pour, causing the night to seem much darker than it truly was.

"They've returned!" the woman in the doorway announced.

Oddny's Uncle, halfway to drunk, was out of his seat immediately. Despite stumbling into a few tables, he managed to run out into the wet town square.

Captain Oskar led the crestfallen search party back into town, everyone nearly soaked to the bone and their torches dying out. Frits ran to meet them, eyes scanning the darkness for Oddny. "Did you find her? Did you find my niece out there?"

The others shuffled uncomfortably, avoiding looking at the town's scribe. Captain Oskar shot them a look and they dispersed, murmuring amongst one another. Only Lorens remained.

This was a familiar scene. The tracker hadn't been there last time, but Captain Oscar had.

He'd worn the same expression, too.

Before Oskar could even speak, Frits was shaking his head. He didn't want to hear it.

Sighing, the captain placed a sympathetic hand on Frits' shoulder—it weighed more than any tool Frits had ever picked up. "We did not, friend. And I'm afraid we might not ever."

It wasn't what he'd been expecting. He'd been expecting that they'd found remains, a body. A tattered piece of clothing. He'd been ready for that, but not for—not for such a cryptic response. His mouth opened but no sounds came for a few seconds. Frits clicked his jaw shut one last time, took a breath, then attempted speech again.

"What. . .do you mean 'we might not ever'? Where is my niece? Where is Oddny?"

Emotion had seized him. Captain Oskar pried Frits' fingers from around his lapel and pushed his hands down to his side. "Lorens followed the trail. She was taken. There's nothing we can do."

Eyes glassy, Frits searched until he located the hunter nearby. Their eyes met and Lorens inclined his head with a heavy heart. A half-hearted objection left Frits' lips in a garbled moan—if the hunter couldn't find her, no one would. Frits stumbled backwards and wiped his mouth. "There must be  _something_  we can do."

Taken wasn't dead. That meant they could take her back—somehow.

A crowd had gathered to listen to the news, but at the coming scene they fled. Only a few remained: Lorens, Erik, and Vermund. Erik approached Frits, hand half-raised toward him as if in defense. "There is nothing. There's no telling how far away they are by now. We wouldn't even know which direction they left."

"We have no boats ready," Lorens added.

Frits paced in a circle as he tried to come to terms with the evidence. When he had fully digested what they were saying, his fists clenched and he turned his head skyward, shouting his anger and grief into the rain-filled darkness. He screamed himself to his knees, then doubled over when his breath ran out and beat the side of his fist against the ground.

Everyone watched on until Ida Halson scurried to his side with a heavy wool blanket. She draped it over him and brought her arms around his shoulders. "Come now. Let's get out of the rain."

Though much shorter than Frits, Ida kept up her embrace as she and the grieving man hobbled into her home. The rest of the crowd dispersed, heads hung in defeat. The news spread fast, and by morning everyone knew the fate of Oddny Skovgaard.

Before morning broke, Signy burst into Ida's home, closely tailed by her father. Though Vermund was there, Hals had holed himself up in his grief and shame.

"Frits? Frits!" Signy wailed, flinging herself at the man's feet as he sat at a table.

He scarcely acknowledged her except for a sidelong glance.

"I don't know—I, we, heard—I feel awful! I can't—I really thought—we never would have—" Anything else she was trying to say turned unintelligible as she devolved into loud weeping. Her fingers clung to his trousers as she begged over and over again for forgiveness.

The other two stood idly by, their heads bowed. Vermund was stone-faced and pale, but Skuli was holding back his own tears.

Ida poked her head out of a room and then rushed over to pick Signy up.

"Oh, sweet thing, calm down. It's alright."

"Not it's not!" she bawled.

As if it took great effort, Frits turned around. His face was ashen, eyes swollen and red. Like most in the town, he hadn't slept at all and had no plans to do so for some time. Not until he could drown himself in ale and black out. Maybe he could forget it all if he did that.

"It's not your fault," he said, voice hoarse from a night of sorrow.

Even still Signy was in no state to respond. His admittance seemed to only make things worse. Instead, Skuli made a remark. "But we were  _there_  and—"

"I shouldn't have let her go," Frits muttered, not looking at any of them. "We were a day away from taking her back home. I wanted to give her a good day. I shouldn't have let her go. I should have held onto her until she was with her parents."

"Frits, dear," Ida cooed, "no one could have seen this coming."

"I should have. Calla—everything I love. . .it gets taken. . . ."

Being only one woman, Ida could tend only to one upset person at a time, and Signy was in the most need for physical comfort. She wanted to reach out and hold Frits, as well, but the young girl was beside herself, keening and soaked with tears.

Vermund stepped up, however, and put a gentle hand on Frits. "I'm sure we'll come up with something if we put our heads together."

"Sure," Frits grunted, not yet ready to be mollified.

She was gone.

That was that.


	5. Shanghaied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> This is where things start getting a little messy. Ish.
> 
> Changelog: The Vikings all have accents. Let me know if it's too obnoxious or hard to read and I'll try to clean it up more. Added part of chapter six to the end. Truncated some of the scenes for continuity and just...because of unnecessary things.
> 
> ~ Crayola

"What d'ya expect us to do with a whelp, Koll?"

The hefty Viking had held tight to Oddny while the ship shoved off, only dropping her onto the swollen wood deck of the ship when enough of his peers had gathered to see what it was he carried. He nudged her with his foot and she skittered away, clinging to a pile of rope. Tears dirtied her reddened face and she glanced between the strangers scowling at her.

For a moment, Oddny considered the plausibility of leaping into the brine to splash her way back to shore. She didn't know how to swim very well, but how hard could it be?

"Don't know. Lass freed my dragon, though, an' I figured we could always use an extra hand on the ship," Koll grunted, lifting his arms as he tried to spot Oddny. The girl was quicker than a spider. He spotted her over by the side and glowered at her.

"More like an extra mouth t'feed," someone snorted.

Oddny took a deep breath and pulled herself up to peer over the edge of the boat at the churning waters. Land was swiftly becoming smaller and smaller and with the storm coming in, her window of opportunity was dwindling.

Right now, she could easily pull herself over. No one was close enough to grab her.

It would be a simple task.

However, fear stayed her hand and she lowered herself back down so she wasn't staring at the choppy sea. She was stuck. If land was closer, she could have kicked and flopped her way to shore. It wouldn't have been pretty, but it would have been effective. Maybe. Not anymore, though. The cold mixed with exertion would have tired her out too fast.

If she were to leap over, she would surely drown.

"Throw 'er over! Take the loss and face Eret like a man," another person jeered.

At his words, Oddny threw herself prone and tightly gripped the coil of rope she'd chosen to act as her lifeline. She took a quick look to make sure it was tied to something so if they  _did_  try to throw her over, she could hold on long enough to stall and come up with something.

"Aye, what if she don't know how t'do anything?"

"She'll just get in the way!"

"Women're bad luck, cast her away!"

Koll growled and stepped toward the growing crowd, one hand on his weapon. "What makes ya think she doesn't know any skills? She lived in a trade town!"

Another man stormed toward Oddny. "I ain't givin' up my rations fer 'er!"

"I can cook!" she shouted, afraid remaining silent would bring about her doom. It at least stalled the man's approach.

Everyone fell silent and stared at her for a heartbeat, then a few burst into laughter. One turned to face the back of the crowd, standing taller to see over the heads. "Hey Olaf!" he called. "Ya hear that? She can cook! Ya need an extra hand helping ya out with that?"

A grumble came from behind the group. "I already 'ave more'n enough hands crowding my galley and getting' in the way, I don't need another pair!"

Her captor shifted his piercing gaze to her and took another step closer, shoving past his cohort. He'd never hear the end of it if he'd made the mistake of bringing aboard a useless girl  _and_  lost one whole dragon. Lost it  _to_  the useless girl, no less!

"Better 'ave more t'offer than that, lass," he demanded. "Otherwise, yer fish bait."

Gasping, Oddy wrapped her arms tighter around the rope and shook her head. "No! No, please don't! Just take me back. I won't tell anyone, I promise. We can't—my town can't come after you anyway and—you don't have to throw me over!"

The man next to Koll leered at her, one of his teeth missing. "Sorry lass. We 'ave certain. . .time constraints. Can't be taking the time to sail you back to your dink town."

Even though it had been a long shot, her heart still sank.

"Then—then—I can do other things. Like. . .like clean! And—and I lived on a farm before, I can take care of livestock. Please—please don't throw me overboard." Her voice broke and she gulped in lung-fulls of air in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. It wasn't working.

Someone gripped her by the upper arm and pulled her off the ground. She kept her hands on the rope and brought it with her.

"First rule," Koll's gruff voice growled, "no tears."

Oddny nodded with rapid movements and sniffed wetly, gasping and brushing her tears on her shoulder. "O-okay. Okay." Though her voice was shaky, she was doing her best to strengthen it.

Koll dropped her again to the floor, but this time Oddny managed to keep her footing despite a staggering at the rough landing. "Good," the Viking muttered. He turned to the others and opened his arms in a challenge. "Is that good enough until we rejoin Eret?"

Mumbles rippled through the group like a wave. Another man pushed past the rest and appraised Oddny.

"What's 'er name?" he asked.

Oddny glanced between Koll and the new man. Everyone present was so large, but these two seemed to be the largest of the bunch. "C-Calla."

"Calla, eh?" He stroked his thick beard. "Ya can clean and tend to livestock?

"Y-yes." Oddny's lip quivered.

He grunted. "Koll, she's yer responsibility until we reach Eret's ship. Keep 'er in line and outta trouble. Keep 'er fed. Calla?" The crisp address snapped her attention to him. "Ya will stay below deck and see t'the captured dragons."

Her heart skipped a beat—there were dragons aboard? It had taken all of her courage to venture close enough to the first one. Now she was going to be held responsible for the ones on the ship? When she had mentioned tending livestock, she had thought she would take care of sheep or chicken, maybe cattle at the most.

But dragons?

"H-how?"

The man snapped his fingers toward the band of Vikings behind him. "You there, Hored."

"Aye, captain?" The Viking stood at attention.

"Show 'er t'the pens. Tendin' farm animals will likely be very different compared t'dragons. Give 'er a swift rundown on their care. Koll, while he does that, find her something to sleep on." He used his sword to punctuate each command and every swing made Oddny flinch.

"Why?" Koll snorted, already unhappy he had to be the girl's keeper.

Captain Sorkvir glared at him. "Are we in the habit'a askin' stupid questions? Because that's an  _order_ , that's why! Now  _go_  and don't question me again or it'll be  _you_  thrown overboard!"

Koll grumbled about the dragons keeping her warm but stalked off all the same. Oddny felt a pang of fear in her gut—would he use this to make her life even more miserable in the future? Her thoughts were interrupted when Hored ushered Oddny toward the center of the ship. Sorkvir barked commands at the other members to return to their posts.

Oddny followed him into the depths, leaving the rope behind. Everything was silent up until they made landing into the hold. As soon as they were spotted by the caged dragons, the pair was greeted with demanding snarls and angry roars. Oddny resisted the urge to hold on to Hored.

"Don't pay them any heed," he said over the cacophony. "They're locked up tight and make a lot of noise to make up for it."

She nodded and trotted after him as he led her toward the back. They passed row after row of free-standing cages locked down tight with rope and hooks. The cages were barely large enough for the reptiles inside to turn around comfortably, and most had to stoop to keep from hitting their heads on the bars above them. They howled and snarled and rattled their confines, but it seemed impossible for them to escape.

"We keep the fish they eat back 'ere. Give 'em each six or seven fish once in the morning and once at night. Yer lucky our quota was low, otherwise there'd be twice as many dragons. Though. . .we'll still be short one dragon after today." He gave her a pointed glare and she shrank back.

Sighing, he motioned toward the barrels of fish. "There's the food. Don't worry 'bout catching the fish, we haul in more if we need to, but this should last 'till we meet with the others."

"Do they bite?" Oddny asked, examining a caged beast with scales a deep crimson color.

Hored laughed and pointed at the dragon. "You see that huge mouth full of teeth? You telling me you can't decide whether or not it  _bites_?"

Her face flushed red and she shied from the dragon as it eyed her. It seemed as though it used its wings as a set of legs to keep balance. The beast caught her staring and hissed, causing her to leap back and scurry to catch up with Hored.

"Why don't they use their fire to escape?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at them.

He followed her gaze and shrugged. "What kind'a dragon trappers would we be if we didn't use dragon-proof materials?"

She pursed her lips and murmured, "There are such things?" under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Grunting, Hored continued. "Just pick the fish up and toss 'em close t'the cage so they can reach it. Don't stray near or else ya might get clawed, and try not t'make 'em angry. Don't worry 'bout bein' set on fire, though. We trained that outta 'em. Amazin' what ya can do by simply withholdin' food for a few weeks. If someone  _does_  spit flames at ya, don't feed 'em for a couple days."

Oddny nodded, but the mere mention of a dragon attempting to cook her alive made her heart beat against her ribcage.

"When yer done feedin' everyone," Hored continued, "yer job is t'clean. Everythin'. The floors, the cages. . . . There's a few buckets an' mops over there in the corner. Sorkvir doesn't come down here to inspect, but I will. When it comes time to clean their cages, come find me."

For the duration of his lectures, she followed after him and took in all the procedures he defined. When he finally asked if she had any questions, she could think of only one.

"What type of dragon is this?" she inquired, indicating to a lazy lump resembling the dragon she had freed in the woods. It had the same club-tail, underbite—though it seemed all the dragons shared that similar trait—and tiny hummingbird wings.

Hored stared at it for a second, then answered. "A Gronkle."

"And that one?" she indicated to the dragon that walked on its clawed wings.

"A Monstrous Nightmare. 'Ave you never seen any'a these dragons before?"

She shook her head. "The one—um, the Gronkle—I freed was the first one I'd seen up close. I'd only heard stories before that."

He sighed and rubbed his beard. "No wonder you was able t'approach it without fear. Ya didn't know any better. They're all dangerous in their own rights. The Gronkle might not look like much, but it'll spit lava at ya if ya let it eat rocks. The Monstrous Nightmare can light itself on fire. . . ."

The man spent another length of time explaining the different types of dragons and what they were capable of. Some fired spikes, others changed colors—but most of them breathed fire of some sort. They had limited shots, but Oddny wasn't sure how those shots were replenished. She imagined it was with time and after eating.

Koll stormed down the steps and tossed a sleeping pallet to the ground, startling Oddny. Hored turned and made a face. "Odin's beard, what has ya in such a fit?"

Ignoring Hored, Koll pointed at Oddny and then to the pallet. "Ya sleep down here. When yer duties are done, you'll come t'the galley t'eat. So long as ya have all yer work complete, ya can go where ya like, but  _do not_  interfere with anyone else's work!"

She nodded her head in jerky motions, hands clasped against her chest. "Yes, sir."

As close to satisfied as possible, Koll muttered obscenities to himself as he marched back up the stairs to the main deck. Hored grimaced at Oddny and pushed her pallet across the floor until it was up against a wall. "Don't mind him. He seems t'think he was gonna be celebrated if he brought ya here."

Sniffing, Oddny sat on her "bed" and drew her legs up against her chest. "I want to go home."

Her guide was quiet, then backed up to stand at the bottom of the stairs. "It stays pretty warm in 'ere at night with the dragons, so ya shouldn' get too cold. . . . If ya do, just, uh, come find someone. The dragons already ate earlier, so just. . .clean up before ya sleep, I guess."

He stopped halfway up the steps and leaned over to add, "Just—not Koll. Anyone else."

With that, he disappeared up the steps. Whatever duties he found to attend to on deck would be better than trying to comfort a prisoner. A  _crying_  prisoner.

 _Honestly_ , Hored found himself thinking,  _what was Koll thinking bringing such a person on board?_

Oddny waited for silence to fall—save for the idle sounds of the dragons shifting and snoring—before wiping her eyes on her sleeve and looking around the dark hold. Torches were barely able to bring light to the furthest corners, leaving a bleak stone in her stomach. It smelled of burning sand and wet wood, and even with the presence of the dragons, she felt lonely.

Still, she rose to her feet and started on her chores. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was distracting herself with labor.

_Where should I start? I don't know what to clean first._

She wasn't hungry, either—her stomach was too knotted and queasy for that. Even if she was, she didn't want to deal with a rowdy bunch of ravenous Vikings. Oddny would find something to nibble on later. If her appetite even ever returned.

Her duties weren't yet finished, anyway—well, she hadn't even started. Koll would have her head if she attempted to eat before doing anything, she was sure of it.

Truth be told, she didn't want to clean up after the dragons at all.

Or feed them.

All of that paled in comparison to being thrown overboard, so she set to work on scrubbing the floorboards and walls. Seawater sloshed in through the cracks with breaking waves, but not enough to soak her—only enough to leave salty residue everywhere and make her start over.

Maybe she should have jumped overboard after all.

*:･ﾟ✧

It was dark and quiet on deck. Oddny pressed up the stairs cautiously and peered into the cool night air. Compared to the dragon-heated underbelly of the ship, it was close to frozen topside. She hugged herself tightly, then considered retreating back into the warmth.

If there was one thing the dragons were good for, it was their heat.

Though she had finished her duties long before darkness had fallen, she had remained safe in the hold, away from the torrential rain. The storm hadn't lasted long, but long enough to give her bruises by tossing her about as the wind rocked the ship.

Her stomach reminded her of her mission with a deep rumble. She put aside her trepidation and ventured forward. It had been the better part of a full day since she'd last eaten, and it had finally caught up with her despite being sick with fear. She would need her strength if she was going to survive working for Vikings.

The only problem was, she didn't know where the galley was.

It didn't seem like a large ship, but she hadn't seen many—or  _any_ —ships before. It didn't give her a great reference on the finer points of sailing.

So, she picked her way over the deck, sticking close to the edge as if she could blend right in. Not so close, though, that she might be tossed over the side if they hit a particularly choppy least in the dark, she probably wouldn't be spotted.

Up ahead, she heard voices and stopped moving.

A pair of Vikings spoke in undertones to each other near the rail. Oddny kept one eye on them and took a deep breath.

 _Maybe I can sneak by them_ , she thought, hunger driving her.

They were more observant than she allowed them credit; she made it not three steps before they turned and addressed her.

"Oi, yer Koll's new pet, ain't ya?" the smallest of the two called.

She stood, paralyzed to the spot, and stared at them with her mouth agape. They shared glances, then snickered and approached her. Oddny managed to take a step back.

"Yeah," the big one intoned, "who else could it be? How many other whelps we got here?"

"Just the one."

They circled her and the small one put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. "You looking for something. . .what's your name again?"

"C-Calla," she gulped.

"Aye. I'm Sledge and this is Knuckles."

The small one popped the joints in his fingers to drive his nickname home.

"Charmed," she whispered, not meeting their faces.

"So're ya lost or somethin'?" Sledge asked, leaning down and gripping her chin.

A blush crept up her neck and she looked away from him. "I was trying to find the. . .uh, galley. I was, um, hungry."

Knuckles laughed and Sledge slapped her hard on the back. Oddny stumbled forward and choked on her breath. "Why didn' ya say so! We'd be 'appy to show ya how to get there. Right this way, little Calla."

She would have been satisfied to follow behind them, but they insisted on keeping her in between their bodies, jostling and teasing her the entire walk. All she wanted to do was sink into the floorboards and disappear forever, but no matter how hard she concentrated on just that, it never happened. They stopped at the galley and motioned inward.

"There ya are, little whelp. A veritable smorgasbord, just for you." Knuckles chuckled, then shoved her inside before heading back out with Sledge, guffawing the entire time.

Oddny shot a sour look over her shoulder and tried to smooth her ruffled feathers.

 _Surprised he can say such large words and come out unscathed_ , she thought bitterly.

The galley was lit with flickering candles and a single lantern. A man Oddny had yet to meet was hunched over a pile of bowls and plates. She stood in the doorway, unsure if she should call out or help herself to the food, but she didn't see any upon immediate inspection of the galley. There was no one else inside, either, except for a few Vikings hovering over their meals.

"What do you want?" the man by the dishes demanded without looking up from his work, making Oddny jump.

"Uh. . . ."

"Spit it out."

At last, she was able to swallow her insecurity and stepped forward with some help from her hungry stomach. "Is there any, um, food left that I could eat?"

He glanced over his shoulder and squinted at her, then indicated to a large pot. "There."

Lips pursed, Oddny maneuvered sideways to the pot, looked around for a bowl, then stared at the pile of clean dishes Olaf had amassed. Her mouth bobbed with a silent request, then she shuffled toward him and, keeping him in her side-long gaze, quietly pilfered one of the clean bowls. If he noticed, he said nothing and she moved back to the pot.

Inside was a familiar sight. Brown sauce the consistency of mud and various veggies and meat. She scooped up a small portion, scraped the excess off the lip of the pot, then scurried to sit at a long table. One man was still there, passed out in his seat.

She sat as far from his possible, though he was dead center.

It was then she realized she had no spoon. She stayed seated and scanned the room, then hopped off the bench and retrieved one from the pile, gauging Olaf's reaction as she went. When he ignored her again, she scuttled back to eat her dinner.

Though it wasn't how she usually made the dish, it filled her stomach and had her feeling better by a margin. It was warm and fresh, which was more than she could say about her last meal. Warm, maybe, but far from fresh. She knew she had a while of leftovers to look forward to, but the meal was a small beacon of light in her otherwise bleak day.

Across the table from her, the man jerked in his sleep. She started, then shook her head at herself and finished off her stew.

Olaf was still cleaning the rest of the dishes. Oddny wondered how many had been used that day and how many were there from previous meals—the crew was big, but the pile of dishes looked even larger.

"Um, it was good, thank you," she said as she stood behind him.

He grunted and turned to her at last, brow furrowed. "What?"

Oddny leaned back and averted her gaze to the ground. "The, the stew. It was good, so, um, thanks for. . .making it?"

For a few more seconds he stared at her, appraising her expression. Olaf wasn't accustomed to being thanked for his work, and more often than not the rest of the crew told him that his food tasted like seasoned, stale wood. He decided she was only being polite and sniffed. "Whatever ya say."

His second surprise of the night was Oddny sidling up next to the tub of water, where she began scrubbing her own bowl. Olaf had expected her to sneak it back into the dirty pile and scurry away like a frightened mouse, the same she had done when pulling the bowl and spoon.

_Did she just pick up another bowl to clean?_

When she noticed him staring, she stopped and took a step back. "Sorry. . .am I. . .not supposed to help?" she asked, worrying the hem of her apron dress.

"Didn't think you would, that's all."

With the penalty of not pulling her weight the threat of being thrown into the freezing, murky depths of the sea, she couldn't imagine  _not_  helping. She kept her eyes down and said, "I did the dishes at home, so it's a habit, I guess. Sorry."

Turning, Olaf shrugged. "Well, clean as much as ya want. Fat lotta good the rest of my so-called helpers are."

He made room for her in the tub and she fell into the cathartic rhythm of scrubbing and rinsing. It was almost as strange for her as it was for Olaf, having someone cleaning with her. Olaf was granted the occasional busboy when someone stepped a toe out of line, but none had had ever  _wanted_  to help.

No one wanted to swab the decks, either. Cleaning was a task beneath the Vikings, who were used to battle and pillaging—much more noble deeds.

Yet, it was soothing for Oddny. It was a routine she was familiar with, and she was able to forget for a brief spell that she wasn't back home with her uncle a room away. She was able to forget that she'd been kidnapped and was far, far away from anything close to home.

It was only for a while, though, until the dishes were done.

Until she had to make the trek back to her "quarters", past the jeers of Knuckles and Sledge and sleepy gazes of the dragons. Her thin pallet was waiting. She missed the furs Frits had granted her, even the floor she slept upon. She settled into a curled position, her back to the wall.

Her night was long and fitful. Sleep would welcome her into its warm embrace only to rescind and push her back into the waking world. Even as light seeped through the cracks, she refused to rouse and start her duties. She curled up with her hands over her head to block everything out. Dried tears from the night before had left her cheeks sticky and her eyes crusty.

The feeling of sharp judgment convinced her to leave her pallet out of fear that it was one of the Vikings. She uncurled with stiffness in her limbs and sat up, blinking until her eyes focused on her surroundings. There was no one in the room but the dragons in their confines. They were all turned toward her, heads tilted and expressions expectant. Maybe even a little irritated. When they realized she was finally up , they rumbled and grew restless.

Oddny stood and attempted to smooth out her sleep-crumpled clothes. It proved a fruitless endeavor, so she gave it up and moved to the barrel of fish. There were hungry mouths to feed. The number Hored told her seemed low, but she figured it was to conserve rations. She couldn't imagine creatures that large trying to live off five or six fish a day, though.

As soon as she stuck her hand inside, the growls became ravenous roars and they increased their shuffling tenfold, scales rattling against the bars.

_I'll have to be careful not to lose my hand or some fingers._

Each of the caged beasts was the same. Oddny went from reptile to reptile, throwing the fish inside the cages to keep her distance and avoid those finger-long fangs. Most eagerly snapped up their meals with such voracity, making Oddny stumble back. They watched her from the corner of their eyes as if afraid she was going to steal the pathetic meal back.

Some went so far as to fold their wings over, like hawks protecting their kills from scavengers.

"No one's stealing your fish," Oddny muttered, shaking her head. The cages weren't close enough to each other to allow that, and Oddny wasn't about to stick her hands anywhere near them or their breakfasts.

When all of them were fed, they turned back to her. Their attention seemed split between her and the barrel, licking their chops in anticipation.

 _Must be torture being able to smell the fish all the time,_ Oddny assumed.

She wasn't sure if they could even understand her, but she'd always pretended to talk to the farm animals. Sometimes the hounds would even bark back. "I can't give you any more," she said, her voice timid.

Several of the nearest dragons harrumphed and flopped over, refusing to look at her. Others straight up turned their back or openly glared.

"Sorry," she said again, louder. It didn't seem to help.

Sighing, Oddny sat on her pallet. "I don't want to be here, either, so can we try to get along?"

The ones nearest her heaved annoyed breaths and set their heads down on the ground, watching her with sidelong gazes. Most others had lost interest with her out of view. She offered up a smile and said, "Well, can we settle for just not eating me?"

No answer came, only more somber blinking.

Briefly, she entertained the idea that maybe this was where all the dragons had gone. She didn't know how long these Vikings had been trapping dragons, but it could fit. Uncle Frits had said they'd stopped raiding about a year ago, and now she was in this situation.

 _Is it even possible for them to catch_ all _the dragons?_

Sighing, Oddy left the dragons to their devices and went about gathering the supplies needed to scrub the cages. Hored's sudden—and somewhat stormy—entrance to the hold was enough to rile the dragons back into a fervor and Oddny winced at the sheer volume of their vehemence.

Oddny turned toward the stairs, afraid Koll had returned, but relaxed by a margin when it was the man she'd been tasked to replace. The dragons did not share in her relief.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted him with a polite curtsey.

He waved her off and said, "Mornin'. Came down t'see how ya were doing. Everyone ate for ya? Ya 'ave all yer fingers an' limbs?"

Truth be told, he'd half expected her to still be stuck in the first stages. Hored had even waited longer than usual because he'd figured she would have been asleep well past sunrise. He'd been a little worried when they dragons had started making a racket, but the lack of screaming from the girl had kept him from investigating.

She nodded and motioned toward the bucket and mop. "Yes, sir. I was about to begin cleaning."

"Skip it," he quipped, standing as far from the cages as the ship would allow. The beasts were still posturing but knew better than to do more than that. "They'll just make a mess after they're done digestin'. Come get breakfast."

Though he turned to lead her away, Oddny paused. "I can wait until everyone else is done."

Hored looked over his shoulder and eyed her. "Most 'ave eaten already, I s'pose waitin' a little while longer'd be alright.."

"Yes, I would prefer that, thank you."

Shrugging, Hored turned and left without another word. He didn't mention that there might not be much left to eat if she waited too long, but he wasn't her babysitter so he wasn't going to go out of his way for her.

If she starved, that would be Koll's fault.

Even as she declined his offer, her stomach clenched. She was used to eating before bed and before her morning chores, which would have started hours ago if she were back home.

But, she could wait.

Until then, she tidied up her pallet and took care of the salt buildup around the edges of the wall. There was a rag lying around, so she used that to scrub.

It seemed like she had only just begun when footsteps came thundering down those stairs. His arrival, like Hored's, was met with the call of angry dragons. Oddy scrambled to stand and greet the Viking coming, but before she could turn and face him, a familiar hand grabbed her arm roughly and she bit back a squeak of surprised pain.

Koll looked livid. "Hored said ya ain't eatin'?"

"I—I'm sorry, I just wanted to get some chores done first," she pleaded, leaning her weight back to try and escape his grip. "I was going to eat shortly, I promise!"

Koll hauled her toward the stairs. "Captain told me t'make sure ya eat, so eat!"

"Yes, okay, I'm sorry! Please let me go."

He ignored her and dragged her up on deck. Others milled about, muttering and cursing about their morning chores while others tended the various positions that kept the ship on course. Few spared them any glances.

"You're hurting me," Oddny whimpered.

"Olaf starts breakfast at dawn and we eat after the sun's risen. Lunch is after the sun has reached its peak and started t'fall. Dinner is after the sun has set. You will wait no longer than necessary and you've already almost missed breakfast! If ya starve, it's  _my_  mess to clean up and I won't 'ave that," he lectured, leading her toward the galley.

Tears burned in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away and mustered a retort. "What if I'm not hungry?"

"You'll eat anyway," Koll snapped.

"Oi, Koll! Takin' yer pet out for a walk? Better keep 'er on a lead!" Knuckles chided as they neared the galley. Sledge was next to him, snickering, and Oddny wondered if they had even left the spot from last night.

Koll shot him a sidelong glare, then punched him in the gut with his free hand as he passed, knocking the wind from the smaller Viking. Sledge found that even more amusing than his friend's taunt; his unbridled guffaws followed Oddny and Koll into the dining area. She barely caught the end of Knuckle's demands for him to quiet.

Her captor tossed her inside and she stumbled but remained upright from sheer force of will. "Eat, then see about yer chores!"

With a flourish of his cape, Koll turned and left her there. Her face burned tomato-red and she was close to crying from embarrassment. There were still men seated at the tables, and they were staring at her as if she'd grown a second head.

If skipping or missing a meal mean this kind of humiliation, she vowed to make sure that never happened. Even if it meant dining with a room full of Vikings.


	6. Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> This is the last bit for this month. There'll be more next month, though, don't worry! You might want to read this chapter carefully, it's basically all brand new. I'll also give you a bit of warning, it's a tad bit more on the dark side, so prepare yourselves. Not dark enough to warrant a full Mature rating, but still worth mentioning. Fizzle helped me so much with this chapter, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay this kindness!
> 
> Changelog: Oddny no longer instantly befriends the dragons. Removed the last bit of the chapter and relocated it to chapter seven (coming soon). Added a tough seen with Oddny and Koll and I dove a little more into the dragon's perspective of things.
> 
> ~ Crayola

Like the day before, Olaf was still working on those dishes when Oddny came in for breakfast. The dragons hadn't bothered waiting for her to wake up before starting their hungry snarling, so she wasn't late. She pilfered a bowl from the clean pile and served herself a meager portion of the porridge he'd made. After being accustomed to leftovers for breakfast, she found herself looking forward to eating a fresh meal.

"Good morning," Olaf grunted just as she finished grabbing the bowl.

Oddny nearly dropped the serving spoon on the floor but managed to land it in the pot. "Good morning!" she warbled, picking the spoon back up to finish her serving.

"Koll fetch ya today?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Good. Just ignore 'im. The others're tormentin' him somethin' awful since he brought ya. Failure ain't something ya live down easily here," Olaf explained, adding another plate to the clean pile. "He's takin' it out on ya, since you was the one what thwarted him."

She sniffed and shook her head. "I didn't mean to. I just thought the dragon was stuck in the trap on accident."

"So yer sayin' ya wouldn'a freed it if you'd known?"

"I don't know," Oddny admitted. "Probably not. We thought it was stuck and I wanted to prove to my new friends that I was brave, so I cut it loose."

"There was others with ya?"

She nodded and pulled her bowl close to her chest. "Yeah, just a few."

"An' they just let ya get captured by a Viking?"

"No!" she declared too quickly. "I mean. . .we were all scared. . .they ran and I just happened to be closer to him. . . ."

Olaf grunted. "They ditched ya."

"They didn't!"

He waved her off and returned to his tedious task. "Go eat."

Disgruntled, she did what she was told after filling a cup with water from a barrel. She picked a table with the fewest men, seating herself at the far end. She stared at the off-white porridge substance with her brow furrowed.

Vermund and the others hadn't ditched her. She'd only been unlucky. They were all scared, she was certain of it. Maybe they had only met that same morning, but they wouldn't have ditched her.

_What could they have done, anyway? Koll is so large. He would have fought them all off._

However, Olaf had planted the seed of doubt in her mind. On purpose or not, it was all the same. What would have happened if they  _had_  come to her aid? Koll would have sent them away with little effort, but maybe she would have escaped.

 _Or maybe we would have all just_ died _. What else would he use that weapon for if not to kill meddling children and dragons?_

It was better that she was the one who had been captured, she decided. After all, it  _had_  only been her. They hadn't known her that long and she was going to leave the following day, anyway. For the longest time, she'd lived in her uncle's cabin, hidden away.

If any of the others had been captured—or killed—in her stead, the good people of Penshaw would have resented her.

In the grand scheme of things, she was nothing.

It was better that she was the one who had been captured. Who had gone missing.

Tears threatened to spill again and she did her best to halt them, even as she tried to convince herself of her own worthlessness. She was used to being cooped up. She was used to doing a great number of chores. She was used to having someone yell at her.

Sure, Uncle Frits loved her and only yelled occasionally. He had treated her better, offered her the best he could under the circumstances, but the situation wasn't much different.

_It's better that I'm the one who wound up captured._

A wet trail formed on her cheeks and she rushed to brush them off. The lukewarm food held like a rock in her stomach. She wanted it to be true, she wanted to believe that it was better. That she could handle anything the Vikings threw at her. . .

. . .but she didn't  _want_  to.

She wanted to be home with her uncle, preparing for her trip. She wanted to be on the road, thinking of all the things she was going to tell her parents. She wanted to tell them about the good and bad things about living with Uncle Frits. Assure them that he'd done his best but that she wanted to stay with them from now on.

Her hair stood on end and unease wound its way into her chest. She was being watched, and she tried to keep more tears from falling. Koll had told her that was one of the rules: that she couldn't cry. The last thing she wanted was more of his ire.

Crying in front of the dragons was one thing, but she refused to do so in front of the Vikings surrounding her.

Oddny forced herself to stop thinking about her situation. To stop belittling herself.

The Vikings were going to do enough of that. She couldn't join them. She couldn't let them whittle her down like that. It hadn't been that long yet, and the only one who was relentlessly mean was Koll. Sledge and Knuckles weren't straight up mean, if quite rude and crass.

At least she had Hored, and Olaf wasn't so bad either.

There was only one thing she could do: take the days one at a time and try not to lose hope.

After gulping down the last of her breakfast, she once more joined Olaf's side and offered help with the dishes. If she focused on chores, she'd be okay.

"Ya don' 'ave t'help," Olaf commented.

"It's fine," she breathed. "My chores with the dragons don't take long. I need something to do."

He shrugged and said nothing more on the matter. If someone wanted to help him with the limitless pile of dirty plates and bowls, who was he to complain?

They scrubbed and dried in silence, chipping away at the stack. When she could no longer stand the lack of conversation, she worked up the nerve to ask Olaf the question that had been burning a hole in the back of her mind.

"What are you capturing dragons for?"

Olaf didn't divert his attention from his work. He cleared his throat and said, "We're good at it, an' we get paid to."

"What do other people want with dragons?"

"What do people want with any animal?" he countered. "They might eat 'em, they might use their scales or teeth in jewelry, anything. Our main buyer uses them as a army'a sorts. Dragons're fierce predators, y'know."

She couldn't deny the logic. Big fangs, big claws, control of the sky, and fire-breathing prowess. Anyone who controlled an army of dragons would be unstoppable.

"Are they easy to control?"

This Olaf laughed at that. "Easy? Gods, no. They fear little! Ya think if we freed the dragons down below they'd still do what we wanted? No, they'd kill an' eat us the second they thought they 'ad the freedom! Only thing keepin' them under control is the fact that they're behind bars."

"So then how does your buyer control them?" she asked after a pause.

He shrugged. "People an' beasts alike fear 'im. He commands 'em with brute strength an' 'orrible threats. You'll understand if ya see him."

"How will I know him?"

"You will," he intoned.

Oddny glanced up at his dark expression and her heart quivered. If dragons feared such a man, she hoped that she would never meet him. She thought Koll was the scariest person she had ever met, and the dragons treated him the same as everyone else.

"Ya better go back t'yer duties. I 'ave t'start lunch an' we've cleaned enough. Don't want ya gettin' in trouble with Koll," Olaf said, interrupting her thoughts.

Nodding, Oddny dried her hands and fled from the now-empty galley.

*:･ﾟ✧

The next couple of days passed in much the same pattern. Oddny would wake up to the eager, hungry eyes of her dragon charges, and she'd feed them their insufficient breakfast. After they were as fed as could be, she would high-tail it to the galley to fill her own stomach. Olaf received her help with the dishes, and then she was back to her chores.

Feeding time went down much the same way as the first—impatient snapping and fish swallowed whole in record time.

Cleaning the hold wasn't much better. The dragons didn't have much to do in those cages, so they found entertainment in her. Elbow-deep in scrubbing, her mind elsewhere, she wasn't expecting the dragon in the cage an arm's length from her to suddenly ram its cage.

Screeching, she fell over in a half-curled position, ready for a death-dealing blow.

It never came, so she uncurled and looked around, only to lock eyes with an extremely smug monstrous nightmare.

"You're a brat," she muttered, brushing her clothes off before returning to her scrubbing.

She had to ignore its amused whuffing noises, and she tried to remain vigilant so the dragons wouldn't be able to sneak up on her like that.

 _Imagine, caged beasts_ sneaking up _on me._

No matter how attentive she tried to be, they still managed to startle her at every chance they could find. On the fourth or fifth scare—she'd never really started counting—she threw down her rag in frustration and whirled on the dragons, her hands on her hips.

"Now listen here!" she snapped. "I know you are all bored, but I'm trying to work, so could you stop  _doing that_?"

They watched her with heads tilted, and she huffed. "Right. You don't know what I'm saying."

For several heartbeats, all she did was stare at the dragons. Finally, she sighed and went back to crouching. Instead of fighting fire with fire and yelling at them, she talked while she toiled. She filled the silence by regaling the dragons with the story of Aunt Calla.

"They never found her body," she recounted. So far, her strategy had successfully kept the dragons from startling her. "But they found shreds of her clothes and some blood."

Oddny glanced over her shoulder. Only a few dragons were paying her any attention. Some had fallen asleep, but she wasn't taking that as an insult, but a victory. After all, whether they were listening to her or had been lulled to sleep, they weren't keeping themselves busy at her expense. She didn't know how many more scares her heart could take for the day, let alone the rest of the trip.

_However long that's going to be._

"It could have even been one of you guys," she continued. She figured she might as well try and lift some weight off her chest. "You might've eaten her, and then been captured. And then—and then Uncle Frits had to come and get me."

As her speech gained momentum, her voice cracked. "I had to come live with him. Because my family farm was failing and he was lonely. And then, after all this time I—I'm finally able to go home. I can go back to my parents, and I can meet my new baby brother. I got this new outfit. I got this new. . .they braided my hair. Gave me a bath."

She swallowed the lump in her throat with some difficulty and realized that there were tears in her eyes. After brushing them away, she glanced around.

Her eyes found a sleeping form and she pointed an accusatory finger at the Gronkle. "And then I let one of  _those_  free. To impress some. . .some  _stupid_ people I met that morning. Then Koll arrived and they. . .they  _left me_. Now I'm—now I'm here."

Oddny scrubbed a little harder.

"I'm here. And—everything's awful. The people here are awful, and you're all awful and scary and full of  _teeth_. . .and  _fire_ ," she sniffed.

Again, she looked around to check on the dragons. There were still a few nearby that were watching and listening, though most seemed to have finally dozed off. Oddny wiped away more moisture from her cheeks and took a deep breath.

"At least you're good listeners," she muttered. Ranting at these monsters had taken some of the stress from her shoulders. She did feel better, despite everything.

*:･ﾟ✧

The dragons had no way of knowing how long they'd been captive in their cages without access to the sky. Though their feeding times were consistent enough, they had been so infrequent at the beginning that there was no clear-cut timeline. During their entire stay, they hadn't spent enough time with the humans to feel out a real schedule.

Their original feeder had been replaced by a skittish female; a young one, if her size was any indication. She always kept her distance and never taunted them.

That was a refreshing change of pace, not having someone rattle their cages—quite literally.

It had been fun, at first, watching her skitter around like a nervous bird, flitting from chore to chore and corner to corner. The dragons could only assume that Oddny was doing something akin to nesting—fixing up her living space to her liking. It didn't occur to them that it was what the men wanted her to do to earn her keep.

Another oddity: she slept in the same area as them. None of the Vikings ever had.

At first, they hadn't welcomed the perceived intrusion. As the days passed, though, they'd grown accustomed to it. Especially since it meant she fed them as soon as she woke up.

When Oddny had started speaking to them, they'd largely ignored her because they couldn't understand her. The child was mad, that much was apparent, but all she did was babble. They caught familiar sounds here and there, but not enough to make much sense. Her feelings made it across, though—anger, mostly. At least, to begin with. She was sad about something, and more often scared than anything else.

At least they had the anger in common with each other.

Oddny's presence was slowly becoming more tolerable to them. It was clear that she was the weakest of all present, and the way she was treated meant that she was not equal to the Vikings. They barked orders at her and Koll often shoved or dragged her around.

To the dragons, such treatment was unheard of—unless, of course, she had no parents with her. If she was alone, and she didn't belong to any of the others. . . . Well, that might be different—but not better. Sometimes it took a whole flock to protect offspring, and orphans were often taken care of by female dragons already rearing young.

That's what the Vikings should be doing: protecting and teaching. Not pushing Oddny around like she was their lesser. Didn't humans have any sense?

Not even the largest dragon treated one smaller than them as such.

Sure, small dragons were irritating and needed to be put in their place every once in a while, but this seemed like it was far beyond Oddny being put in her place.

Of them all, one dragon took the most pity on her. The Nadder was one of the older dragons in the hold and had reared many hatchlings in her time. Never in her life would she have let the males of her species treat her babies like these brutes were treating the girl.

But what could she do from her cage? Her maternal instincts meant nothing when she was locked up in a cage.

So, she offered support by listening to Oddny drone on and on about her human problems. She tried to catch her attention sometimes, but it only seemed to startle the girl and drive her further away. Instead, the Nadder changed her tactics. Being too forward didn't seem to work, so she stopped making noise altogether. Unlike other dragons, she didn't growl or snap at Oddny as she passed by. She ate her meals calmly and acted indifferent when Oddny accidentally drew too close.

If it was working, the old mother couldn't be sure.

There were still those captive dragons that took their pent-up frustrations out on her. There was one particularly nasty Monstrous Nightmare that took great pleasure in seeing Oddny dump out her bucket of water when he scared her.

The old mother would grumble and snap at him for it, but it only seemed to amuse him more.

One day, after Oddny's fourth time of feeding them, he took it too far.

After she'd taken the time to make sure everyone had been fed, he waited. She returned from her breakfast topside and began her ritual of tidying and cleaning. Then, on command, the Monstrous Nightmare coughed up his half-digested meal and left an even bigger mess for her to deal with.

"Oh, really. . . ?" Oddny groaned, hiding her head in her arms for a while before heaving herself up. The old mother stomped and hissed, but the Monstrous Nightmare only grew smugger for it.

Some of the others even rumbled with satisfied amusement.

Whatever made these humans more unhappy, the better they felt about their situation. None of them understood that the Vikings were already doing what they could to make her stay miserable.

Nevertheless, Oddny went about cleaning up after him, thinking that maybe he was seasick.

While the little one worked, she told the dragons more stories that they barely understood.

This time, it seemed to be a long one. Normally, she would have been done and headed back up on deck, but the mess of fish and bones proved to be a stubborn thing. The Nadder chirruped at her in pity, head lowered to try and convince Oddny that she wasn't being aggressive. Unfortunately, Oddny hadn't been around enough dragons to understand the nuances of their body language.

Oddny glanced up at the noise before sighing in frustration. She still had more to do before she wandered off, and her first tale turned into two or three more before she was finally nearing the end of what she normally tended to—the walls, the floor, her sleeping arrangements, and their cages.

Time was slipping away from her as she toiled.

It was worrying the old mother, how long it was taking Oddny to finish her duties.

 _He_  always came looking if she took too long to head up.

The old mother kept her sharp gaze locked on to the stairs and the open doorway. She couldn't do much of anything but act as a lookout and sound the alarm.

And when she saw the flicker of a shadow, heard the beginnings of heavy steps down those stairs, she growled and stomped her talons, wings opened as much as her cage would allow. The cavernous hold had begun to grow dim, meaning the sun was beginning its descent and Oddny had missed a meal.

Was about to miss a second one.

She looked up at the old mother's fussing and soon realized that Koll was storming down the stairs. As the other dragons took note, they started their own chorus of angry snorting.

Oddny stood, shedding fear like dragons shed scales. It fell from her like a cloying scent, as it always did when she had to face that man. As soon as she realized he was coming, she knew it was because she'd lost track of time.

His entrance was full of fury and shouting. It silenced even some of the dragons.

He closed the gap with only a few quick steps, shoving the tiny girl hard enough that she fell with a harsh cry. It was a common occurrence, but the swift kick he delivered to her abdomen was not and more dragons fell quiet.

Koll's rage-fueled onslaught continued until every dragon had stilled and was watching.

The old mother snarled at the Nightmare—this was  _his fault—_ but he merely looked away with a contemptuous huff. So what if it was? Nothing  _bad_  ever happened to Oddny. She was roughed up, tossed around, maybe sustained a few bruises, but nothing that couldn't—

Another blow elicited a sound none of them had heard the girl make before. The old mother slammed her head against the bars of her cage, the spikes on her tail bristled.

"Shut up!" Koll shouted at the Nadder. A phrase all the dragons were used to by now.

Fear of retaliation made the old mother back up. Like the girl, she was at the Viking's mercy. If she wasn't careful, she might not have another meal for some time. Her stomach was already empty and wanting more after what she'd been fed earlier that day.

This, though—it wasn't right. The other dragons might not care, but she did.

However, as Oddny's cries took a different pitch, the dragons started to shuffle and growl. None of this was normal, even by dragon standards. They squabbled and fought over territory, food, or even females. Even then, they knew when to stop.

Even then, the female always had final say. Koll seemed intent on ignoring that.

Any dragon caught performing such an egregious display of wanton violence against another dragon who couldn't fight back was to be ostracized and cast out.

Their uncomfortable growls shifted. Irritation grew and they started to snap and bear their fangs. The Nadders lashed their tails, itching to launch spines at him. The Nightmares fought the urge to light themselves aflame while the Gronkles gnawed helplessly on their metal bars. Others yet weighed the options of food over setting Koll on fire.

It was the old mother who finally caved.

What did it matter how many meals she'd be denied? She would never let another dragon do this, so she wasn't about to stand this sort of behavior from even a  _human_. Oddny was fighting to push him off from on top of her, and the position left him open to attack without fear of hitting Oddny. The old mother fired a volley of tail spikes at her tormentor and several missed, but a few hit home and he staggered back in surprise, pulling one from his shoulder.

"What in Odin's name—"

For the briefest of moments, his attention had fallen from the whimpering girl beneath him. He glared at the old mother, then charged her cage. Another Nadder from across the room fired his own spikes at his feet. He jumped and danced, then whirled around to face the new insubordinate.

A Nightmare nearest to Koll—the one who caused the whole thing—gathered his fire breath in his mouth before extending his head and blowing just enough at Koll's back for him to catch fire, but not anything else lest he endanger the girl. Koll spun around, trying to stomp or pat the burning edges of his cape out before the flames could consume him. His hopping brought him too close to another Nightmare and she reached through the bars to hook the claws on her wing around his leg and pull.

He toppled like a felled tree.

Meanwhile, the old mother chirped and called for Oddny, dipping her head up and down as a form of encouragement. The absence of Koll made Oddny uncurl from her fetal position and she looked for the source of the strange noises. First, she spotted the dragons playing some sort of keep-away game with the man.

Then, through vision blurred with tears, she noticed the Nadder.

Her bobbing and beckoning became more intense when Oddny finally saw her. She moved to the side of her cage and opened a wing. Oddny swallowed and looked from the old mother to Koll, who was recovering. He seemed to have forgotten her, but for who knew how long.

Choosing the lesser of two evils had never been so easy.

At least if the dragon ate her, it would probably be less painful than being with Koll. Aching wracked her body, making her slender frame tremble.

She straightened up, then crawled over to the frantic Nadder. Her arms, battered from protecting her more vulnerable parts, barely responded. Oddny didn't trust herself to stand, however, so she stayed the course. The bars were just wide enough for her to slip through with a bit of wiggling, but she had to bite back a cry when the unyielding metal squeezed her ribs—sore from being kicked. When she was in, the old mother folded her wings back up and curled her tail around the girl.

With Oddny off the floor, the rest of the dragons ceased their game of cat and mouse with Koll. He swore at them and shook their cages. In the end, though, he tired himself out and left.

The dragons watched him make his exit, then looked to the old mother. Oddny was curled up on the floor of her cage, shuddering and whimpering. The Nadder lowered herself and tried not to crush the girl underneath her. Before long, Oddny was quiet and seemed to be sleeping.

None of the dragons were eating again anytime soon, but their consciences were clear.

*:･ﾟ✧

When Oddny awoke, she was stiff and sore. Her memory was fuzzy, but she did recall an angry Koll bent on teaching her a lesson about going against his orders. She'd missed two meals trying to clean up after the dragons, and he'd taken great exception to that.

The rest of it was gone—most likely because she didn't want to remember.

It all came back in fits when she realized she had slept all night pressed up against the dragon that had sheltered her. That fact, however, was also fuzzy to her addled mind.

Her heart jumped into her throat and all she wanted to do was flee, but she was afraid that any sudden movements would set the dragon off. The old mother was staring right at her, her broad head tilted to the side. Oddny was too scared to realize that there was no malice in those yellow eyes, and she slowly began to move away.

The Nadder did nothing, only watched.

Eventually, Oddny was able to slip back out through the bars with marginally less pain than before and she checked over herself. Bruises and bumps, disheveled clothes, and a stiff back from laying on a hard surface. Nothing broken, she decided.

She still had free use of her limbs. . . .

"Yer up."

Oddny screamed and the dragons were instantly awake, seeking the danger.

But it was only Hored.

"Sorry, didn' mean t'startle ya," he said. He was looking anywhere but directly at her. "Don' feed the dragons 'til I say. You can stay down here for the day. I'll 'ave someone bring yer meals."

She shook her head. "I can—"

"Give yerself a day. Stay down here." It wasn't a suggestion.

After pausing, Oddny nodded. "Okay," she said when it became apparent that he hadn't seen her since he wouldn't look at her. He'd probably heard all about it from Koll.

Without another word, he left. Hored did, for a heartbeat, pause. It was so short and Oddny thought she may have imagined it. Oddny waited until he was up the stairs, then hobbled over to sit on her bedroll, knees against her chest.

Part of her had been expecting the dragon to eat her, but she hadn't done anything besides keep her warm while she slept. None of the dragons had even begun the morning with their usual clamor for food. Their eyes were on her all the time, and the person who brought her breakfast was given sour glares and suspicious growls. It was the same at lunch, and then at dinner.

The next day, she was feeling less sore and managed to wake up in time to sneak all the dragons a half ration before someone came to fetch her. Just a little something to tide them over and thank them. Then she ventured up to serve her own breakfast and help Olaf with the dishes.

After she checked to make sure Koll wasn't around, of course.

Olaf didn't say much but grunt when she showed up. He had started letting her eat with him after seeing how uncomfortable she was with the other Vikings, and he allowed her to do so this time as well. In silence. She didn't mind, though: it was better that no one spoke to her about it.

She didn't trust herself to keep from falling apart.

"See ya next meal," Olaf said as she left to attend her duties.

"Yeah," Oddny sighed.

Her routine returned, albeit with less Koll and, instead, with more attentive dragons. She snuck them food when she could, going so far as to hand-feed the ones that would permit it. Their behavior had greatly changed toward her, but Oddny was still a little wary of the Nightmares.

Oddny found herself examining their cages from time to time. The doors had slide locks that required a key, and she figured that it wouldn't matter how hard she shook it. It wasn't going to open.

"Sorry, I guess I can't let you out," she told the dragons.

Still, she gleaned some enjoyment from imagining releasing them, especially after what the old mother had done for her. What chaos it would have caused these awful Vikings. The scenes created in her mind's eye brought her great pleasure. Oddny pictured the dozen or more dragons topside, pulling planks free and burning the sails.

Maybe one of them would eat Koll.

She imagined being carried off by one of them, back to her home while the Vikings tried to salvage their sinking ship.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be that easy. The Vikings wouldn't have made the cages a simple matter for anyone to open. The last thing they'd want were all of the things she was wishing for—an escape for the dragons and for herself. If any passerby could open the cages, it was inviting disaster. They were brutish people, but they weren't stupid.

Well, it was something to think about at least.


	7. Absconding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changelog: Once again, I'll point out that I moved the last half of chapter six to the beginning of this chapter. I added a few extra scenes, fleshed out some parts, and I have actually split the original chapter into two separate chapters. So, this one is no longer titled "Attempts" and has a new title, instead.

As the last few days of their voyage drew to a close, Oddny noticed a change in the demeanor of the men around her—mostly where it concerned their spirits and work ethic. Some even joined her and Olaf in cleaning up the remaining dishes. Hored inspected the dragons more often, and finally gave her the go-ahead to start feeding them again.

As much as they could eat, so long as they didn't run out.

Having full stomachs left the dragons happier, and that was more than pleasing for Oddny. She hadn't been caught giving them morsels, but it still felt good to give them a lot.

"For you," Oddny whispered, glancing over her shoulder to see if the other dragons would notice and be envious. She kneeled in front of the dark Nadder, an armful of the choicest fish she could pick out of the barrel. "A little special treat for helping me."

The old mother lowered herself as well, mouth wide open. Oddny smiled and set one fish in her maw at a time, giving the old mother a chance to swallow them down whole.

None of the other dragons seemed to notice, so she went back to her work.

When she awoke on the final morning, it was to raucous noises and shouts on deck. The dragons were restless, perturbed by the sudden increase of activity and noise. Oddny tried to calm them with some food, but they refused to eat the last of the fish.

"What's wrong?" she asked them, but they didn't answer beside the occasional growl and glance in her direction. All eyes were turned toward the door and the ceiling.

Oddny walked over to the bottom step and peered up into the doorway that led topside. Shadows flit by and footsteps thundered overhead as the crew ran this way and that, preparing for something to come.

After a quick look at the dragons behind her, Oddny headed up to see what the commotion was all about.  _Is a storm coming?_

"Watch it!"

She danced out of the way of a Viking carrying a large box and pressed herself against the wall as several more hurried along. Captain Sorkvir was bellowing orders outside of Oddny's field of view. When the coast was clear, she scurried to the side of the boat to look overboard, but all she saw was water as far as the eye could see, and no storm clouds in the distance. She frowned and backed up— right into another person.

"Keep out of the way!" the Viking demanded.

Squeaking, Oddny skittered back to the wall and followed it around the other side of the ship.

Her chest swelled as her heart came to life with new energy. Green treetops swayed in the sea wind in lazy bobs. The Vikings unloaded their crates on the dock, barking orders at one another. Oddny had been on the wrong side of the ship when she'd looked.

They had docked.

"Step aside."

A strong hand shoved her out of the way and she clung to the railing, staring at the harbor. Another similar ship was docked next to them, and caged dragons dotted the shoreline. Some Oddny had yet to see before—including a few two-headed dragons. Off in the distance, a mountain peak jutted above the tree line. Smoke curled into the sky in thin wisps just beyond the woods: a settlement.

Familiar roars met Oddny's ears and she turned to see a winch heaving her charges out of the hold. Out of all the days spent down there, she hadn't seen the hatch or known it was there. Several Vikings manned the hoist, pulling the cages out in turn.

"Put yer backs into it! Eret ain't gonna wait forever!"

"Get these dragons out if ya wanna get paid!"

Oddny watched their struggles for a moment, her eyes on the dragons inside. The sight of the blue sky was enough to whip them into a frenzy and they strained to expand their wings, fought against their bars to sample a taste of the freedom that had been torn from them.

As she observed, she made eye contact with one of the dragons being hoisted up: one of the Monstrous Nightmares that had distracted Koll for her. He butted his head against the bars, eyes wide with desperation when he noticed her moving about on deck. He tried to reach her with his clawed wing, imploring and begging.

They were stuck—no chance of escape. Not like her. Oddny was within arm's reach of freedom, but they were going to be locked in those tiny cages for the gods knew how long.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

She tore her gaze away from the dragon before she lost her nerve to guilt. She was steps away from the unloading ramp that would lead her to the ground, then to the town. Another Viking pushed her away and she stumbled back. Instead of continuing onward like all the others going about their business, he came to a halt in front of her.

Koll glared down at Oddny, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. The color drained from her face.

"What are you doing up here? Get back down and help unload the dragons!" he commanded, reaching for her arm.

She ducked away and fled back down the stairs. Koll watched her with narrowed eyes, but merely snorted and went back to the task he had been assigned. Above all, he was glad that she'd learned  _something_  from him.

How to take orders.

Once down, she made herself small, crouched atop her bedroll. Her chest heaved with each uneasy breath and she clasped her hands together, waiting. Koll never came down after her, though, so she tried to calm herself by closing her eyes and listening to the steady sounds of the growling dragons. So long as they were still there, and the hold was full of other people, Koll couldn't harm her.

The bruises on her body had faded and begun to heal, but they still seemed fresh in her mind. Taking one more deep, cleansing breath, she opened her eyes and tried to figure out where she was needed the most.

Men were swarming all over the hold, paying her no heed while they hooked ropes to the cages and checked the slack. Once ready, they would give a signal to have them raised. Oddny didn't see any reason for her to help; not when she couldn't push the cages into place or hook the ropes, and tried again to sneak on deck.

There was so much going on. No one would be able to watch her and deal with the frenzied dragons at the same time.

If there was a town, someone could help her.

This was her chance to escape and find out where she was, how to find her way home. She wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers.

 _This isn't going to be like hiding from Uncle Frits_ , she thought with a sour note.

Oddny dipped around shouting Vikings, wound through the cages of dragons, and crept up the stairs. She peered around the corner, searching for Koll. When she didn't immediately spot him, she dashed across the deck towards the quietest side of the ship.

Walking off the ship in the same manner as every else didn't seem like an option. Someone would recognize her—how could they not? She was the only female aboard—and send her back to the hold. Oddny didn't know how long this was going to go on for, how long they would be docked. She couldn't afford multiple attempts to make her escape.

Taking a deep breath, she peered over the side of the ship. Small waves licked the hull, but they weren't choppy or dangerous-looking. She glanced behind her, then began to clamber on top of the railing, making it so far as to have one leg swung over. After checking her surroundings again to see if anyone would catch her, she steeled herself and looked back down into the sea—into the dark, bottomless. . .merciless. . . .

The drop looked much farther when she was close to jumping. She didn't know how to swim, either: the main reason she hadn't leaped off the ship before. Nerve lost, she slid back down to the safety of the deck and sat down, pressed against the side.

 _What am I thinking?_ she berated herself.  _I can't just jump like that. . .there has to be another way for me to do this._

One of the dragons roared and Oddny turned her head in time to see flames firing off into the air. Someone had angered the wrong dragon and the Vikings were shouting reprimands and screaming at each other.

_The dragons! That's how I'll get out!_

She was on her feet again in an instant, squeezing past Vikings rushing up from the hold to stop the Nightmare that was on fire and trying to charbroil the men around him. He wanted out, and Oddny didn't blame him one bit.

There were still three or four cages left with antsy dragons inside. Oddny scanned them and spotted who she was looking for—the old mother. The dark-hued Nadder that had sheltered her and possibly saved her life from Koll. They locked eyes for the briefest of times, and Oddny tip-toed over, wrapping her fingers around the bars.

"Thank the gods they haven't taken you yet," she panted. "May I come in with you?"

The Nadder chirped at her curiously, cocking her head this way and that.

"I don't know if you can understand me," Oddny hurried, looking back at the door. The commotion outside was beginning to wind down, "but I need to get off this ship and I would like for you to hide me again. Please?"

Still the old mother gawked, clicking her teeth together and trying to understand. There was so much going on, though, and the dragon could tell the girl appeared to be somewhat distraught.

Maybe the Vikings were being awful to her again.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs and Oddny decided she would have to take a chance. She ducked down and shimmied through the bars, squeezing in as tight as she could through the metal. At least her ribs weren't as sore as before. The old mother caught on and shifted to give Oddny some room, even offering her the horn on her nose. Oddny grabbed it with a whispered thanks and used the dragon as leverage to pull her hips through the bars that last few hair widths.

All the while, the Nadder encouraged her with small chirrups and caws. The Vikings were returning, and she didn't want the poor girl to be caught.

Just in time, she popped into the cage as the Vikings returned to pull the rest of the cages out of the hold. At this point, the old mother settled down as she had before, keeping Oddny close to her side. She scooped the girl against her side, hiding Oddny within her speckled wings.

Holding her breath, Oddny tried to minimize how much noise she was making. The old mother was careful to keep her weight off, like when she nested with her eggs or hatchlings. Oddny remained as still as she could be, sweat beading on her brow. The hold had already been fairly warm and if there was one thing a dragon could do, it was producing heat.

She waited for the sound of Vikings realizing where she was, but the only thing they did was continue ordering each other around. It took seemingly forever for them to move the Nadder's cage. Oddny refused to so much as breathe while she was pressed against the side of the old mother.

In order to protect her odd burden, the old mother growled warnings and bristled at any Viking that came too close. They didn't seem to think this behavior strange: all the dragons were acting up because they were being relocated. Some were acting out, others were more timid than they usually were, but almost all were excited to see the clouds.

Her warnings and posturing were tame after they'd had to subdue the Monstrous Nightmare. It had taken almost all hands on deck, but they'd rendered it unconscious and continued with their jobs.

As the cage was set down on the ground, Oddny was jostled about. The old mother adjusted herself to keep Oddny from being exposed. The noises and voices receded as the Vikings returned to the ship to unload the rest. Even then, when all was silent except for the various sounds of the reptiles around her, Oddny didn't dare move.

After counting to one hundred in her head, Oddny wiggled out from the Nadder's wing and took a peek around. Their cage was in the midst of other dragons and those that noticed her gave surprised snorts. She hushed those she could but marked herself lucky that they weren't causing a scene.

_I'm going to have to move fast before anyone comes to check on them._

It was anyone's guess how long she had before someone realized she was missing, and she wasn't sure if anyone would even come looking for her. Oddny kept her ears open for any signs that her presence was missed, but tried to focus the majority of her attention on escaping.

The woods were to her right and the ship was straight ahead. She tried to find the village she'd seen, but couldn't see it around the bulky dragons. However, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it would probably be a Viking village and they would just capture her again. It had seemed like such a good idea when she'd first thought of it, but now her worries were starting to manifest. She'd have to make it to the woods, then find out where she was and go from there.

If push came to shove, she would just crawl back to the Vikings and hope they took mercy on her. After all, she had no delusions when it came to how well she could survive on her own in the woods. It wouldn't be long before she was at death's door if no one was able or willing to assist her in finding the way home.

When she was sure the coast was clear, she squirmed out from under the Nadder and tried to squeeze back through the bars. However, her helper dragon squawked indignantly and used both of her wings to pull Oddny back against her chest. The old mother readjusted her weight and rumbled happily.

At least if the girl was there, she'd be safe and sound. She could keep Oddny out of harm's way.

"Hey! You have to let me go," Oddny whined, pushing against the beast's chest and trying to free herself.

She wriggled to pull Oddny further under her, so Oddny wormed her way backward instead, crawling out from under the old mother's tail. She attempted to leave the cage while the dragon struggled to turn around to grab her in the cramped cage. This time, Oddny was able to shove herself through without any extra leverage or aid before the dragon could twist around.

Though the old mother gave her a plaintive whine and tried to fit her wings through to grab Oddny, the girl was able to backpedal away. "I'm not your baby, sorry," Oddny murmured, straightening her clothes and wiping moisture from her forehead.

Huffing, the old mother shuffled to turn her back on Oddny and plopped down on the floor. If she didn't want to be with her anymore, then so be it.

Oddny bit her bottom lip and crouched as she moved around the cage to look the dragon in the face. She glanced up at Oddny and then looked away out of spite. Sighing, Oddny lowered herself until she was on her knees.

"I'm sorry," Oddny said with a gentle voice. She outstretched her hand through the bars. "I need to go, and I can't take you with me."

The old mother gave her a side-long look, then lifted her head and tilted it to one side.

"If it's any consolation, I'm forever grateful for all you've done for me," Oddny continued, keeping her hand up. "If I find a way, I'll help you and the others escape. I can't do that if I'm still stuck here, though."

Blinking slowly, the old mother exhaled and leaned forward enough so that Oddny could rest her palm against her snout. The dragon closed her eyes, then pulled away to let her leave.

Guilt gnawed at her, but there wasn't anything she could do to help the dragons—not yet—so she headed out into the forest after one last check to see if the coast was clear. The cages required a key to open, and she had no way of obtaining one. Nor did she know where to find one. Even if she could, she would likely be caught the second the first dragon took off into the sky. She couldn't free everyone, so she would free herself for now.

Somehow, some way, she'd figure it out after she was somewhere safe.

Oddny was able to weave through the shipment of dragons without any issue. She kept herself low and her weight on the balls of her feet, eyes and ears open for anyone else to show up. The trees swallowed her up and once she was certain she was fully obscured, she began sprinting.

It didn't matter that she didn't know where she was going to go or what she was going to do when she made it there. She was away from Koll and the Vikings. That was already an improvement.

After what seemed like ages of running, her lungs were close to bursting. If she continued at the same pace for much longer, she was going to collapse. Her days of chores and more chores might have prepared her for working on a Viking ship, but it wasn't the same as running nonstop.

When she could continue no longer, she braced herself against a tree. Bent over and panting, she tried to catch her breath and pressed her other hand against a painful stitch in her side. Her parched throat felt like sand when she swallowed, but she couldn't worry about any of that—not until she was certain she wasn't being followed.

A quick glance around yielded promising results. No pursuers. Nothing but silence and the soft sound of branches rubbing together in the breeze.

Somewhere to her left, a bird twittered and she jumped.

Her gasping breaths subsided after several minutes. Despite her lack of endurance, Oddny forced her heavy legs to keep going. She doubled back the way she'd come to try and find that settlement she'd caught a glimpse of on the ship.

Thin wisps of smoke rose above the trees, giving Oddny a point with which to navigate. Moving through the undergrowth silently was difficult, but she did her best.

She stopped short of the edge of the woods, sticking close to the vegetation. Voices had drawn her closer to the settlement, but it seemed like more of a temporary camp than an actual town or village. There were a few cabins, but mostly large tents and a central hub with large rocks for sitting, and a black cauldron.

Olaf was at the cauldron, serving food to Vikings Oddny had never seen before.

Hope withered into a small thread and she backed up, trying to keep herself together. She would have to keep looking. There would be no help for her here, and she hadn't the slightest idea how large the island was—if there would be any others living there.

_How long are they going to stay?_

_Maybe I can just wait for them to leave—then I can stow away on another ship!_

_What. . .what am I going to do for food until then?_

Her mind was racing with questions and concerns. It all led back to the unwavering belief that she was going to be stuck and probably die on the island.

 _I have maybe a day or two. If I can't come with something before they leave, I'll have to come back,_  she decided. Hopefully, they weren't going to leave that day. She wouldn't have any time to make a plan if that was the case.

Oddny wet her lips, then slowly backed up and away from the Viking camp. She wasn't looking forward to sleeping in the woods but figured it was better than inside a musky, damp ship. The only thing it had going for it was the warmth from the dragons, and those had all been removed. She couldn't go far, though, if she wanted to keep track of the Vikings.

It was going to be a long, cold night.

For now, she would have to find somewhere to hole up. A cave, a tree, something. She wasn't an outdoor survivalist. Maybe once the Vikings were all passed out, she could sneak into the camp and nibble on their food, warm up by the fire and find somewhere quiet and hidden to sleep.

_If I'm lucky._

So far that day, the gods had smiled upon her. The Nadder had been more than happy to hide her, and she had successfully fled. The question was whether or not her good fortune would persist.

Staying too near the camp was dangerous, but staying too far away was the same. One held the risk of being caught, the other threatened to make her lose her way, stuck wandering the forest until she collapsed, died from exposure, or found a settlement.

Frustration and despair battled for dominance within her. On the ship, she was warm and safe and fed. Out in the wild, she had no idea how to survive. Oddny meandered away, trying to memorize strange trees or rock formations, but everything looked the same. The despair won out, and she huddled against a rock, obscured by a thick thorn bush.

Hugging her knees to her chest, Oddny hid her face and tried to think. No matter what, she wouldn't give up until she had to. Oddny Skovgaard would not slink back with her tail between her legs until she was at death's door.

_Just wait and catch your breath._

The one thing Oddny hadn't accounted for was the boredom. Ever since she was little, there was always something for her to do. On the farm, there were stalls to clean, eggs to harvest, animals to feed, and any number of things. With Uncle Frits, she had plenty of chores and if she was feeling froggy, the surrounding woods could be explored.

Though the sun had only barely moved, it felt like an eternity had gone by, and she was already feeling the pangs of hunger: it had been since sunrise since she'd last eaten.

Sighing, Oddny cleared away some rocks and twigs from the area in front of her. She picked up a pointy stick that was at her side and traced lines in the dirt. If anything, she could practice her reading and writing for a while. However, she found herself writing the same thing over and over.

" _Our dearest Oddny."_

A pressure formed behind her eyes and Oddny bit her bottom lip.

" _Our dearest Oddny."_

Sniffing, Oddny brushed at her eyes with her sleeve and continued to repeat it in the dirt. She was never going to receive another letter. In fact, she was certain that she was probably never going to see them again unless she could find her way back to Penshaw.

_I don't even know where it is or if anyone else will._

Another scribble. Tears fell and interrupted the lettering. She flattened the surface and started again. Her handwriting was sloppy and letters not quite correct, but they were passable.

" _Our dearest Oddny."_

They hadn't the resources or money to look for her. Even if they realized she was missing, they couldn't come and find her.

She had never missed them so badly. Not even while staying at Uncle Frits'. Though they were far away, they weren't unreachable. They wrote, and Oddny always knew one day she'd see them again when things were better on the farm and they could feed her.

Now. . .now she had no idea. It hurt, deep in her chest, as if she'd swallowed a hot rock.

Things must have been better if they were going to have a baby. A brother, a little brother. They wanted to bring her back. Uncle Frits had done his best but her parents—she wanted them back more than anything in the world.

After staring at the words for a while, she switched to writing their names and her own. It took Oddny a few tries to remember her brother's name, but eventually, she had it written out as well.

If she could just read that letter one more time—

_The letter! Didn't I take it with me?_

Oddny patted herself down and checked her pockets. She couldn't recall if she had kept it or if Uncle Frits had taken it back, but after one last pocket, she felt it: the soft crinkle of parchment.

During the entire trip with the Vikings, it hadn't once crossed her mind to look for the letter. She'd been so preoccupied with keeping her head low and doing her work, she'd forgotten about the one thing that would keep her spirits up.

She pulled out the crumpled parchment, flattened it, and straightened the bent corners. Oddny took a deep breath and skimmed over the letters, throat tight and eyes wet. She traced the tip of her finger over the opening clause as her eyes skimmed the rest of it. Though some of the words still caught her up, she read through it promptly.

Oddny smiled and choked out a half-sob, half-laugh. They were still with her, even now. They'd been with her the entire time.

For the rest of the day, she worked on her writing and reading, scratching the entire letter into the soil time and again. She only stopped when the sun began to set. It cast the sky in an amber-purple glow, leaving her in the dark. Oddny looked up and put the letter away, eyes and hand tired from her practices.

She stared at the last thing she wrote, smiling to herself. It was one of the first original sentences she'd written out.

" _Oddny loves Mom Dad and Sven."_

In afterthought, she added,  _"Uncle Frits is okay."_

Sighing, she erased the letters with a few strokes of her hand and tucked the letter back where it would be safe—under her shirt, held in place by her belt—and folded neatly so the parchment wouldn't be any more crumpled than it already was. Hopefully, the ink would last, and wouldn't fade with time and use.

That letter was all she had of her parents now.

When the rustling started, Oddny was immediately on high alert. She pushed herself further down below the rock, pressed deeper into the thorn bush. They poked at her arms and pulled at her clothes, but she ignored the pinpricks of pain and discomfort.

It wasn't the sound of footsteps. No shouts from Vikings demanding she be found. Instead, the shuffle of leaves and branches was from above. Before she had time to look up, a heavy mass of scales and muscles landed in front of her—a dragon. Oddny clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her surprised scream. In her fright, she slammed against the rock at her back.

Unaware of her plight, the Gronkle wagged its whole body as if excited to see her. Oddny stared at it, cowering against her hiding place until she recognized its azure hide.

"You. . . ?"


	8. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changelog: This is technically a new chapter, but it doesn't actually have anything new in it. Instead of having this combined with chapter seven, I separated it into a new chapter. Thus, her interaction with the gronkle is a lot more fleshed out than it used to be. At Fizzle's suggestion, I incorporated the gronkle's scenes from the chapter "Journey" into this one to make it more seamless and bring the style up to par with how I wrote the scene with the dragons a couple chapters ago.

He had to watch, helpless and paralyzed with fear, as the girl was dragged away against her will. Exhausted and spent, it had been all he had in him to escape when the net had come loose.

It had happened so fast, too—he hadn't seen the trap coming at all. All he knew was that he was happily sniffing for delicious rocks and then he was pinned and tangled in ropes and weights. So much time had passed while he thrashed and tried to free himself. Resignation had set in after a while, and he had to come to terms with the fact that this was the end for him.

Then she showed up.

They all had: a small group of young humans.

At first, he was certain they were going to kill him. Though they seemed unarmed, the dragon had seen firsthand that some humans were capable of fighting with their clawless, meaty appendages. Especially some of those Vikings that always hunted them.

There wasn't anything he could have done. He'd long since run out of lava shots and hadn't been able to eat anything at all. He was tired and hungry and defeated.

For a brief span, they discussed amongst themselves what they would do with him, and then one approached him. A young female holding a knife. The Gronkle had dipped into any reserves of energy to defy her, but then she did the unexpected.

She cut him free of his bonds. She let the net fall away.

There was no time to express or offer her any gratitude. Not when the giant man-beast had jumped out of the woods, shouting and growling. It would have been easy for the man to catch him again, but the dragon fluttered out of his reach and into the trees. There was some relief there—relief that didn't last long.

He remembered the girl. He remembered Oddny.

However, he remembered her too late. By the time he thought to check on her, she'd been taken by the man and brought aboard his ship. He couldn't help without exposing himself, and he was still terrified of being caught. So, he remained within the safety of the trees, watching the Viking ship float off with Oddny on it.

Guilt wasn't a familiar emotion for him, but what he was feeling was not entirely unfamiliar. It was the same tightness welling inside him when he lost a fight with another dragon or when he had been caught—like he was small and weak.

Shame.

He'd left that girl to save himself, and after Oddny had gone through all that trouble to help him.

Had he more time, he would have properly thanked her—maybe shared a yummy fish or gifted her a shiny stone.

Instead, he'd abandoned her.

In his heart of hearts, he knew that he simply had to make it up to Oddny. She'd proven herself to be a friend of dragons or, at least, to him, and that meant he had an obligation. There were so few friends of dragons outside of the archipelago, where more and more dragons were migrating since the death of the Red Mother.

So, he summoned his courage and left the trees' cover to follow that ship.

If he found her, he could thank her the right way. Return the favor she'd done for him.

If he found her.

Despite all his shortcomings, though—despite his lack of endurance that had forced him to take regular breaks and the fact that he couldn't track like a Deadly Nadder or a Rumblehorn could, he'd followed that ship over scores of open ocean.

He'd even taken a dip when he'd fallen asleep mid-flight trying to keep it in his sights.

Even then, he'd lost it for a while only to find it docked—at last—on an island he hadn't yet visited in his travels. He'd decided to hide within the woods and wait for night to fall. After going on several night raids for the Red Mother, he'd learned that humans were less active when the sun set.

After filling his tummy with delectable rocks, he'd found Oddny.

And he was so glad to see her.

The Gronkle whuffed and bounded toward her, making Oddny flinch. Though she raised her arms to protect herself from a perceived attack, all he did was shower her in a bucket of saliva. She shoved him away and tried to brush the spittle off her face, but it was thick and viscous.

As she rose to her feet, Oddny pushed on the dragon's nose to keep him from licking her. He still tried his best.

"How did you find me? Did you follow me all the way from the island?" she asked.

All he could do was smack his lips and bob his whole body.

Well, she didn't need a real answer, anyway. Not when he was so clearly standing before her. And, the Gronkle realized with sudden disappointment, he wasn't bearing a gift like he'd planned. During his search, he'd forgotten to bring something altogether and his spirits fell.

How would he thank her now?

Luckily for him, she wasn't shy about telling him that she wanted something specific.

Hope flared inside Oddny's chest and she crouched so she was eye level with the dragon. This, of course, brought her back into range of his big, wet tongue. "Do you know the way back? To that island, I mean. Can you take me back?"

His response was a full-body wiggle as he wagged his clubbed tail back and forth. Oddny sighed in frustration and rubbed her face. "Right, what am I thinking. He doesn't understand me."

Still, she was happy to see a familiar face. His appearance brought an opportunity: he had flown to her all the way from Penshaw, which meant he could do it again. If she could mount him, he could fly her somewhere else.

All she had to do was figure out a way to ask.

The Gronkle cocked his head to the side and watched Oddny with curious excitement as she struggled to stand, pinned against the rock. He held still, waiting for her, and Oddny tried to figure out how she was going to ask. How she was going to make the dragon understand that she wanted a ride.

Will he even let me? He's not a horse. . . .

She lifted her arms and extended them toward the dragon before starting to say, "May I—um, could I. . . ." That didn't feel right, though, so she lowered her arms.

Tongue lolling from his mouth, the Gronkle tilted his head to the other side, panting.

Oddny gave up on being smart when she couldn't come up with a clever way to communicate with the creature. The Nadder had figured out what she'd wanted when she used the direct approach; she had to assume that it would be the same with this creature.

"I'm going to climb up, okay?" she said, moving up closer to him.

He didn't shy away or try to bite her, so she took that as an invitation to continue. However, she still kept her progress slow in order to give the dragon time to protest. The Gronkle gave her a side-long look, then licked his lips and closed his eyes. After inhaling, she set both of her hands down on his rough, scaly hide and let them sit there.

So far, so good, she thought while letting out the breath she'd been holding.

Though she'd watched her dad break many horses on the farm, she had only ever ridden their friendly mare a handful of times. Oddny had never even thought about climbing on a creature that hadn't had a human passenger before. She was desperate, though, and knew it was worth a shot.

She took a deep breath, then began to climb up. It was clear enough to him at that point what she wanted, and he didn't shy away. Though he'd never had a rider before, the dragons and their riders from that island made it look easy.

Fun, even.

However, any potential fun was interrupted. Just as she was halfway on his back, the Gronkle heard something in the woods. Not a bird or a rodent—all things he'd seen plenty of when he'd arrived—but something bigger. Someone was coming, making an awful ruckus. Oddny didn't notice, but he certainly did.

The dragon's eyes snapped open and his ears flicked erect. His body became rigid underneath Oddny and she paused, her heartbeat suddenly thundering in her ears. The dragon's pupils constricted into slits and he whirled around, snarling.

With a surprised gasp, Oddny threw herself away from the Gronkle. However, he didn't attack her like she expected. Instead, he faced the woods and something whistled in the wind.

An ax soared out from between two trees. The Gronkle had only enough time to flip around and smack it away with his clubbed tail before another one struck him in the side, knocking him over. His thick, armored scales preventing the ax from piercing into him.

Oddny scrambled back and staggered to her feet. Rough hands grabbed her arms and she whirled without thinking, shoving the person away. She must have caught them off-guard, as she successfully managed to send the much larger person stumbling. Now free, she ran to the dragon's side and supported his weight as he recovered from the blow.

"Stay away from it, li'l bird!" someone shouted.

The dragon's fierce eyes met with Oddny's for a heartbeat. Though defiant and angry, the expression there on his face was unmistakable.

He's scared, she realized. Terrified that this was where he was going die.

It was the same expression he'd worn when they'd first met.

However, the Gronkle was going to fight anyway. There was no avoiding it. He wasn't going to go down without doing his best. Now was his time to make it up to the girl and save her.

To shed this shame that had plagued him since her kidnapping.

Oddny's hands fluttered over him, torn between clambering onto his back so they could both make a getaway and trying to stop the Vikings that had found them.

Heat scorched her face when he spat a glob of molten rock at one of their aggressors. With shouts, the Vikings scattered only to reconvene immediately after. There were only two of them, but they were armed and determined.

Teeth gritted, Oddny used her shoulder to push the Gronkle onto his feet and threw herself at the nearest Viking. Once again, she took him by surprise and he lost his footing on the uneven ground. He went down and Oddny jumped to her feet, making quick tracks toward the Gronkle. He was already in the air, using his tail to knock the second Viking down.

She leaped toward the dragon, arms outstretched. He fluttered his wings and dipped toward her, taking one of her arms in his mouth.

He could be gentle when he wanted, and if there ever was a time, it was with Oddny's arm in his jaw. She was so breakable, unlike the Vikings he was used to dealing with. His teeth were meant to grind down rock; her flesh and bone would be child's play. But, he was careful, and he didn't draw a single drop of blood. Once they had lost the Vikings, they could land and she could ride him properly.

I can go home! Oddny celebrated.

"Don't worry, I gotcha!"

An added weight latched on to Oddny's ankle. She looked down to find a new Viking holding onto her, an axe in his other hand. Her eyes widened into saucers and she tried to kick him off of her, but couldn't find a good angle.

"No! No, let go!" she shrieked.

"Are you crazy?"

"Let me go!"

All of her thrashing was making it hard for the Gronkle to fly straight, and the added weight from the Viking made it difficult for him to ascend any higher.

Too many passengers.

One extra person wasn't that much of an issue. If Oddny couldn't shake him off of her, the Gronkle would still be able to fly above the trees. He could manage to land and chase off the Viking. One man wouldn't be able to hold his own against him: he wasn't nearly the biggest one the Gronkle had seen or faced in his life.

Maybe the dragon had run away when that net had come off of him, but he hadn't known what else to do. He didn't have any attacks in his reserves and he was exhausted from trying to break free during all that time.

Not now, though.

This time, he would fight. Could fight.

For all that planning, though, more and more weight was added to his burden. No longer was he able to keep ascending, and he started to fall back to the ground. He beat his little wings as hard as they would go, but he couldn't handle it. The two others had grabbed a hold of each other, forming a hefty human chain attached to Oddny that made the Gronkle dip downward dangerously. He whimpered and looked down at Oddny, downtrodden and apologetic.

We're not going to make it.

That realization nestled deep into her chest. The hope that had once burned so brightly within Oddny fizzled into a dying ember.

We can't both get away.

Then, Oddny started to slip from the Gronkle's mouth. In a moment of panic, he bit down harder on her arm, always vigilant of where his teeth were and how hard he could clench without breaking her bones. Some sign of gratitude that would be. He might not have a choice though, not if he didn't want to let her go—he didn't want to go back on his vow to make things right for abandoning her.

If he dropped her here, he'd be a failure twice over.

"It's okay," Oddny said, smiling up at him. "You did your best."

Those words held little meaning to him, but her tone was conveyed through expression and pitch alone. She unfastened her coat and fell from his grip, plummeting the remaining distance to the ground. He shot up into the sky, no longer held down by the weight of the humans he was trying to carry, and disappeared with her parka still in his mouth. She landed on the pile of people, a pair of arms wrapped protectively around her.

Once she recovered from the landing, anger and fear mingled together into a volatile mix of emotions. She started wailing and kicking, trying to hit anything she could to punish these barbarians for thwarting her attempt at freedom.

"Ow—hey! Knock it off!" the person under her grunted. "You're safe now! The dragon's gone, you're in good hands!"

"No!" screeched Oddny. "No, you don't understand!"

He flipped her around and they tumbled off the groaning pile of stunned Vikings, winded from the drop. Despite her struggles, the man collected her hands in his and pinned her down to keep her from kicking anymore.

"Relax!" he barked.

Oddny opened her eyes to look at her supposed rescuer. She was surprised to find he was young, maybe four or five years her senior but still younger than the rest of the Vikings she'd seen so far. Her eyes were drawn mostly to the odd tattoo on his chin before she tore her gaze away from him altogether. Oddny swallowed and looked around, trying to find some way to escape, but there was nothing she could find.

Nothing that she could use to fight three men off.

Nothing that would be of any help.

The fight drained from her, siphoned out and dumped into the void. She deflated and let her head drop; her lip quivered and she tried to stop the tears, but they leaked down her cheeks despite herself. The man atop her sighed with relief and dragged Oddny to her feet.

"Now, see? It's a good thing we showed up when we did. . .that thing was gonna drag you off to Thor knows where. What are you doing all the way out here, anyway?" he asked.

She said nothing and merely kept her head down as she shrugged.

That was the whole point. He was supposed to carry me off.

However, Oddny didn't think he'd understand no matter how she tried to explain it. Maybe he would understand, but it was unlikely that he'd care. The only solace she gleaned from the situation was that she'd saved the dragon from death or capture.

Another opportunity at escape was sure to present itself later. Even in a worst-case scenario, she didn't imagine the Vikings killing her. She couldn't say the same for the dragon, and she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if they were both captured and the dragon had been killed for whatever reason they would make up. At least if she was alive, she would be able to come up with a plan later.

The two other Vikings were finally up and shared looks with each other. One spoke; "I think she might've been trying to go with it, sir."

Their supposed leader looked taken aback, then stared at Oddny. "And why would she do that?" His goons struggled to come up with a reason, so their boss turned his attention to Oddny, instead. "Well, were you trying to go with the dragon?"

Again, all she did was shrug her shoulders.

"Well, whatever the case, let's get her back to the camp."

He gripped her upper arm and gently picked her up until she was standing. Then, he led her and the other two back to the Viking settlement. She didn't fight or protest.

The entire trip back was like a dream to her, as if she wasn't really there and it wasn't happening. All she could think about was how close she had been to going home, or at least away from the Vikings. Even if the dragon couldn't find the way back to Penshaw, he might have stopped at another town somewhere. She could have found work, paid her way back home. It would have taken a while, sure, but it was something.

Maybe they'll let me work my way home if I ask.

She dismissed the thought almost immediately. The Vikings weren't going to give her a job. She was a slave, at best. If she were to ask, they'd laugh her back into her quarters. She could delude herself all she wanted into thinking it was temporary. Oddny needed real hope, not false hope. Hope that she made herself. She could plan and plot and wait for her opportunity, just like she had when she'd snuck off the ship and ran into the woods.

It was only the first try. She was bound to run into a few hitches. If she kept trying, the law of averages demanded that she'd be successful at least once. Even if it took months, gods forbid years, she would find a way out. She just couldn't give up that hope.

Before she knew it, they arrived at the encampment. The sun had since disappeared under the horizon, and the camp was lit with torches and a single bonfire in the center. It was alive with discussions and murmurs that filled the area, though some conversations died as the band of Vikings arrived with Oddny in tow.

Then, above all the others, a single voice rose. Oddny's heart stopped beating and her blood froze over.

"You ungrateful li'l bitch!"

Koll stormed toward them, eyes blazing and his gaze aimed into Oddny's very soul. Eyes wide, Oddny whimpered and finally tugged against the man holding her. All she wanted to do was flee back into the woods. With that option off the table, she tried instead to put this new Viking between her and Koll, hoping that maybe he would save her twice.

Even if she hadn't wanted to be saved the first time.

"How dare ya try'n escape!" Koll snarled, reaching for her.

She was pulled behind the Viking and he held up his free hand to stop Koll from coming any closer. "Now hold on, Koll. What's the meaning of this?"

He seemed to balloon with rage and Koll jabbed an angry finger in her direction. "That puny waif's our property. She snuck off th'ship while we was docked an' we've been looking fer 'er ever since! I caught 'er try'n t'escape earlier an' stuffed her back below deck, but somehow she got off anyway!"

"That so?" the unknown Viking asked, glancing back at her.

Oddny hesitated but figured it would be in her best interest not to lie. She stared helplessly up at him, then glanced at Koll before swallowing the lump in her throat. Then, she nodded.

"Hand 'er over!"

The Viking cocked an eyebrow and Koll hurried to add, "Sir," as an afterthought.

Again the Viking's curious gaze fell on Oddny and she gave him a pleading look, hoping against hope that he wouldn't give her up to Koll. She was all but clinging to the back of his tunic, prepared to put up a fight if he tried to relinquish her. There were no dragons around to help her this time. No old mother to shelter her from Koll's fury.

Though she hadn't considered they'd kill her for this transgression before, it was now a distinct possibility. There was murder in Koll's dark glare. It set her to trembling and tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes.

And all she could do was silently beg the Viking holding her, willing him to understand.

He gave her a long look and glanced at Koll without moving his head. Though he hadn't noticed before, she had some faint, healing bruises on her torso and one that looked like it used to be a black eye. The corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk and he winked at Oddny.

"No, I don't think I will," he finally decided with a shrug, turning to face Koll.

"Excuse me?" Koll demanded, teeth clenched together to keep his voice from sounding too disrespectful. Oddny was beginning to realize how important the man holding her was.

"Sorkvir's ship is too well-manned to justify having a slave. You clearly aren't capable of watching all those dragons you trap and a girl making it her business to escape," he explained, pulling Oddny out from behind him now that Koll wasn't actively attempting to seize her. "I, on the other hand, could always use some extra help."

A vein throbbed in Koll's forehead. "But, sir the girl—"

"Doesn't want to go with you, anyway. In fact, it seems she would rather be eaten by a dragon than go back," the boss remarked, his hands resting on Oddny's shoulders now.

Koll's face turned beat red and he was at a loss for words. The small crowd that had gathered started murmuring to each other. Oddny recognized some of their faces, Olaf being one of them, and he looked like he wanted to say something but was holding his tongue.

"That's what that was, right lass?" the boss asked her.

Oddny glanced up at him, then back at Koll. After some hesitation, she nodded her head In quick, jerky motions. It wasn't quite what she'd been doing, but close enough.

Though Koll opened his mouth to argue, he bit back the retort when he realized where this conversation was headed and its implications. Now, he could be rid of the girl for good. It had been put upon him to tend to her, and now—though he would be ridiculed for letting her escape—he could go back to his own business.

How long would he be teased for, anyway? A few days? A week? He could handle a few ribs in his direction, and anyone who became too annoying would be dealt with by a swift fist to the jaw.

"And besides," the man continued, giving his two goons a significant and knowing look, "isn't the rumor that you have her aboard only because you were low on your quota? If you're low on your quota for what you owe me, well, then. . . ."

Gaze averted in shame, Koll harrumphed. "Aye, sir. Who told you?"

"Everyone on your ship seemed more than happy to tell everyone. That means she belongs to me anyway, wouldn't you say, boys?" He tapped the goon on his left with the back of his hand.

"Makes sense to me, sir," he said.

"Aye, sir," the other chimed in.

The crowd had grown larger by a margin and Koll glanced around. All eyes were on him, and he couldn't bear the snickers and leers, so he gave up on saving face and merely dipped his head in relent. "Yer right, sir. She's yers."

Finally, the man took his hands off Oddny and raised them in the air in triumph. "Then it's settled! Your numbers are all good in my books, and we're even. No hard feelings."

"And Drago, sir?" Goon number two asked.

He waved the concern away like it was an annoying bug. "We'll make up one dragon no problem. Drago will get his full shipment, don't you worry about that. Anything else, Koll? I'll bring it up with Sorkvir in the morning."

"Whatever," Koll muttered, turning on his heel to leave.

"What was that?"

Stopping, Koll growled but corrected himself, "That'll be all, thank ya, sir."

"Excellent. Then you're excused."

With a grumpy sigh, Koll left and Oddny released the breath she'd been holding. The man turned to her and smirked. "Yeah, he's a real piece of work. Good dragon trapper, though, so we keep him on the payroll. Since you're a bit of a flight risk, you'll hang out with me."

"Okay." She was resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be escaping this day so she thought it was an unnecessary precaution, though an understandable one.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Again she had to stop herself from saying her real name and managed to tell him, "Calla."

"Well, Calla, I'm Eret, son of Eret. Welcome to the team."


	9. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changelog: New chapter title! As mentioned before, I removed most of the gronkle's scenes from this chapter and weaved them into the last chapter, instead. In order to make up that word count, I really dug into Frits' passages and fleshed them out as well as adding some more scenes. I kinda moved a small chunk from chapter ten into here, as well - just the beginning, though. All this rearranging is hard work!

A single candle lit Frits' workspace, dancing lights across the unfinished letter before him. For days, he'd toiled and stalled, trying to figure out how best to word the bad news. What the best way was to tell Oddny's parents that she had been taken by Vikings. That they wouldn't be seeing her like they'd planned.

Or ever again.

Sitting at his desk, hunched over with his face in his hand, Frits didn't stand up even when someone came knocking at his door. He didn't so much as glance in its direction, no matter how loud or obnoxious. Not even when the person on the other side shouted for him.

The pounding continued at the same pace as the throbbing in his head. He continued to pretend not to hear it. Frits picked up the mug of ale at his elbow and drowned himself in it, wiping stray traces from the sides of his mouth. He couldn't wait much longer to send the letter. They deserved to know as soon as possible what had become of their daughter. The longer he waited, the more it would hurt.

His time was dwindling. They'd worry if they didn't hear a word from him when he and Oddny didn't show up as scheduled. If he wanted the letter to arrive at that point, he was going to have to send it soon.

Either way, it was going to cause great harm. They would be devastated. They'd hate him and never want to see him again.

 _He_  was devastated.  _He_  hated himself.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his flushed, haggard face. When the pounding on his door started again, he squeezed his hands over his ears and tried to block it out like he had been for the past several days.

More well-wishers checking up on him.

Perhaps it was the kids trying to find ways to apologize again and again—well, mostly just Signy.

"Frits? Frits it's been days!" the person on the other side said, cutting through his carefully crafted composure. "You have to come out. You need to eat and you need to know it's not your fault."

All things he'd heard before, but he  _was_  eating.

His visitors left him plenty of things to eat on his doorstep.

Irrational anger filled him and he ground his teeth together. Still, he stayed put and worked on his self-control. He wanted to get up off his chair and give them a piece of his mind, but he knew that they'd leave eventually. They'd give up.

However, this person kept at it for much longer. They kept beating and beating at his door, making the pounding in his head that much less bearable.

"Frits! I'll take this door off the hinges if I need to!" the decidedly male voice promised.

 _They'll go away,_  Frits kept telling himself.

"Please, Frits? Just come out and talk! It's a nice day and you could use the air!" they begged. "I'll buy you a couple drinks—just come out!"

Another voice joined the first. "If not for him, do it for me?"

Finally, he'd had enough. Frits jumped to his feet, shoving his workbench over in the process. The papers there scattered and the candle guttered.

Bewildered and worried stares met him as he flung open the door, glaring at the ones bothering him. There were three in total, all bearing various gifts or bribes. At the forefront, the one who had been doggedly trying to force his way inside was Captain Oskar. He was the only one without a gift to give, but Ida the seamstress at his right held a hot pot of food, and the hunter Lorens at his left had a large pair of rabbits, already cleaned and ready for cooking.

"What do you  _want_?" Frits demanded, his voice thick from underuse and hours of shedding tears. He looked at each of them in turn, waiting for an explanation.

Ida spoke first and lifted her pot of food. "Have you eaten at all since. . .then?"

"What does that matter?" he snapped.

"You can't sit in here and kill yourself, Frits," said Lorens.

Frits snorted. "I could a lot easier if you lot would leave me alone!"

Captain Oskar put his hand on Frits' shoulder but the scribe pulled away with a grunt. Oskar sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. "Please, friend. None of it was your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. There's no reason to punish yourself like this."

Arms crossed, Frits waited for them to say more, but when it didn't come he asked, "Are you done, then? Will you leave?"

"Take this!" Ida commanded, forcing her pot on him. "And eat!"

Though disgruntled, he didn't force her to take the pot back. Seeing his chance, Lorens added his rabbits to the top of the pot. Frits shifted its weight so he could carry it easier and huffed. "Is that all, then? I need to write to Oddny's parents. Tell them that their daughter is never going to come home ever again. Good day."

Lorens tried to object but was too slow.

Using his foot to slam the door shut, he headed back to his desk and dropped the food off in the eating area on the way. Maybe later he would eat, but he wasn't hungry at that moment. Not when Oddny was the one who always cooked for him. Not when nothing he tasted would be quite like what she used to make him.

It took only a small amount of time to right his desk and relight the candle, and then he was sitting back down in the same position he had been before the interruption.

All of them were wrong.

It  _was_  his fault.

For so many years, he'd kept her safe from the outside world, sequestering her away from any form of danger and death. She'd been cooped up at his cabin for so long in the name of a nontoxic environment. All of it, destroyed in a single day—a single brief moment. He'd let her stray from his side for less time than it took the sun to move and she was stolen away right out from under his nose.

How could that  _not_  be his fault? After forsaking how he appeared to her, trading protection for love, it hadn't worked. She'd still been wrested from him. All of his efforts destroyed by one stranger.

Despite all of that, he hadn't been able to take care of her. He hadn't been able to keep her safe.

Not only that, but he'd sacrificed his reputation. She didn't even like him that much, couldn't have enjoyed living there. He had been fine with her disliking him if only it meant she would be alive and well and safe, unlike his late wife.

Now. . .he had nothing left.

With tears in his eyes and nothing but ale fueling him, he set to penning the dreaded letter. The words spewed forth from his quill: a jumble of events. All he had was what the children had told him that day. He told her parents what the citizens of Penshaw had done to try to find her, and how sorry he was. What it lacked in eloquence it made up for by being succinct and honest. Frits begged their forgiveness and told them he would do whatever he could to make it right.

But what did he really have to offer? He had the money left that he'd planned to use for the trip. He could send them that, perhaps, but no one could put a price on his niece, on their daughter. Any compensation he tried to give them would have been a mockery more than anything else.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be a good enough start.

His letter was sealed safely in an envelope, unmarked except for the Skovgaard name. His usual delivery boy would know where to take it and who to give it to.

There was only one thing left to do: find the fortitude within him to leave the cabin for the first time since the incident. To face the piteous looks of the townsfolk as he walked through Penshaw. To deal with the murmured apologies and condolences that meant nothing, nor would bring back Oddny.

For several moments he stared at the sealed envelope, wax long since hardened and candle beginning to gutter. He tossed it to the edge of his desk and it stopped sliding a hair's breadth from falling to the floor.

That could wait. He should eat before making the short trip.

Maybe it was just a distraction, and maybe he was using it as an excuse to stall sending the letter, but starving himself also wouldn't bring back Oddny. At this point, there wasn't much that  _would_  bring her back, that he could do, that didn't include direct intervention from Odin himself.

He removed himself from his chair and grabbed a wooden bowl. Ida was a good cook, to say the least. He sat down by himself and tried not to think about how lonely he was without Oddny.

*:･ﾟ✧

The days passed by in slow motion for Frits, one blending into the next. He spent them all locked up in his empty cabin, windows closed up tight and his body glued to his pallet, furs bunched up around his hips. His walls were the most interesting thing he had to look at and stare at them he did.

When it had come time to take the letter to town, he couldn't bring himself to. It wasn't until the pity party showed up in another attempt to draw him outside.

"Here," he'd said, all but throwing it at Ida. "Take that to my delivery boy. He'll know what do with it and where to take it."

"What? Frits you should—"

He cut her off with a sharp and curt gesture. "If you want me outta this damn cabin, take that and have it sent off."

After staring at the envelope for a while, Ida had finally acquiesced before leaving.

Whatever it took to make Frits leave his house. She could even pretend that he hadn't slammed the door shut on her nose, and she could even pretend that she believed him. At least he was making some progress. He was eating, and had opened the door for her on only the fifth knock.

So, she left to deliver his mail for him.

The meal she'd brought Frits had lasted him for those days he kept himself in exile. With his guilt suppressing his appetite, he wasn't eating much at a single time.

It was starting to go bad. He didn't want to cook those rabbits, either.

And his store of ale was empty.

Ale was integral to his self-destruction, and the only thing that lessened his pain. The moment his buzz started to wear off was the moment he remembered what he'd done wrong. Everything he'd  _ever_  done wrong, to that girl. To Oddny. Even to his Calla, to his flower. Frits didn't want to remember anymore. He didn't want to think anymore.

He grabbed for the mug at his bedside and tipped it back all the way. Hardly a drop to be had. He stared at the inside with distaste and something close to hate, then tossed it to the floor.

That was the last of his personal store.

Now had no choice but to go into town and deal with those looks he knew the townsfolk would give him. Them and their inane apologies and platitudes. All he wanted to do was drink himself stupid. Without his own alcohol, he was going to have to do that out in the public eye away from his prison.

Muttering curses and swears to himself, he gathered his heavy parka and flicked the hood over his head. Maybe they wouldn't guess it was him. It was wishful thinking, but it was wishful thinking that was going to remove him from the cabin. Frits bundled up but didn't bother cleaning himself up even the smallest bit. He didn't have to look pretty to drink.

Frits kept his head down, making a beeline for the tavern once he'd made the trip through the woods. The cover of night would help, though he hadn't planned for that. If he was being honest with himself, he'd thought it was daytime. Since it wasn't, he didn't have the slightest idea how long it had been. His internal clock was all off.

He ignored everything and anyone and kept his eyes on his feet, which knew the path just fine on their own. Someone tried to stop him at some point, but he brushed past them and took a heavy seat at the bar.

"That you, Frits?" the barkeep mused. "You look awful."

Grumbling, Frits pulled back his hood and mussed his unkempt hair. "Just give me a pint. Or all the pints. And don't talk to me."

When there wasn't a mug put in front of him immediately, he looked up to see that sympathetic expression that he'd grown to detest. Frits slammed his fist on the counter and startled the barkeep. "Give me a damned drink!"

_I should have stayed home!_

However, he presented Frits with his requested poison and took a step back. The haggard scribe stared at his drink and rubbed his face, overgrown with several days' worth of stubble. He downed the contents of the mug in a single draw, then slapped it back down and pushed it toward the keep. "Keep them coming until I say stop."

"Frits, this isn't going to help."

"Odin's beard it won't!"

The barkeep—Mongrel, as the townsfolk called him—put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Though his displeasure was palpable, he served his most loyal patron what he asked for. "At least you're not holed up in those woods alone."

Frits snorted an incoherent response and nursed his second ale with more grace, held in his hand, propped up on his elbow. Mongrel watched him for a moment, then shook his head again and set to cleaning the counters and tables. There were few others in the tavern, mostly other local drunks and a single man finished with a long day of work.

"Another," he demanded, finished with the second ale.

*:･ﾟ✧

He spent the next moon bouncing back and forth between the tavern and his home, drowning his sorrows in anything Mongrel would serve him. It was Calla's death all over again, and the people of Penshaw were at a loss for what to do for him. He'd come out of it himself when Oddny was sent to live with him. He'd started his work again and was more of a conversationalist.

This time, though, there most likely wouldn't be another Oddny showing up to live with him, to fill the void left in his heart. They put their heads together to see if there wasn't anything they could do for the man but came up empty.

In the end, they left him to his vices, believing he would come to his senses once he grew past the grieving phase.

Everyone had to move on at some point.

Every now and again, one of the children from that awful day would try to stop him and try to apologize, bearing gifts. He never took any of them.

"Get out of my face," he'd say each time. "It's not your fault, I don't blame you, so leave me!"

They'd scurry off, but not without saying their peace one last time. He meant what he said, so he wasn't sure why the kids were still bothering him. They were too young to blame, and he was shouldering that burden all himself.

Well, it wasn't  _quite_  the full truth.

When deep in his alcohol-fueled stupor, he couldn't help the bitterness that manifested when he thought of them. He kept it to himself, never quite capable of drinking himself into a temper. He had promised that he wouldn't rage at anyone while under the influence again.

Not after he'd subjected dear Oddny to it enough times.

It wouldn't really matter. Not when he wouldn't be able to apologize to her for it. For anything.

However, the gods seemed to take pity on the man, or perhaps upon the girl lost at sea with Vikings and dragons.

Frits was waist-deep in alcohol—again. Being outside had helped just as Ida and the others had suspected it would. She had him on three robust meals a day, and he had cut his visits to the tavern in half. He was finally regaining some of the weight he'd lost in his isolation. Progress was being made, but as the month dragged on, dread was beginning to fill him again.

If it hadn't already, the letter would be showing up at Oddny's parents'. The thought of their imminent breakdown set him on edge. He was dealing with those emotions by taking an extra visit at the tavern, sitting in his usual seat. Though he hadn't had much to drink, he was still fidgeting.

Most who saw him attributed his acquired case of the jitters to his mass consumption of ale.

He was in the midst of ordering one more mug when someone burst into the tavern, letting in a gust of wind that kicked up the fine layer of dust on the floor that no amount of sweeping would ever be able to remove.

The few taking up residence in Mongrel's business turned toward the door.

"Is Frits in here?"

The voice belonged to Heidrek, the seamstress' husband. His eyes were wide as saucers and he was near collapse: a man of his age should not be sprinting halfway across Penshaw.

"Where else would he be?" jeered one of the other men, jabbing a thumb in Frits' direction.

One of the less gruff patrons came to Heidrek's side and helped him to a nearby chair. "Old man, what in Valhalla have you been doing? What's the rush?"

"Frits. . . ," Heidrek coughed, taking deep breaths.

"What do you want?" Frits shouted over his shoulder without looking. "I'm busy."

Heidrek took a brief moment to catch his breath before he explained. "There's a dragon. . .out there in the square. . .a lone one—"

The entire tavern fell into a stunned silence. A single chair screeched on the wood as one person stood fast enough to push it back. Frits paused, the mug halfway to his lips, and slowly lowered it back to the counter before turning in his seat.

"What's that got to do with me?" he snarled.

"It. . .it. . . ." Poor Heidrek could not catch his breath and Mongrel hurried over to give him a glass of water, which he gratefully took.

However, Frits didn't want to wait. "Hurry and spit it out, old man!"

Finally, he filled his lungs and found his voice. "It. . .has your niece's coat."

Nothing followed the revelation. Frits stared at the counter, brows slowly furrowing in confusion and anger. "What was that, old man?" he said after several heartbeats, his voice quiet and low.

Heidrek took a deep breath, coughed, and then repeated what he said, slower and with more wind in his sails now that he'd recovered from his sprint. "A dragon—one of the lava-spitters—landed in the square a short while ago. And—and he has your niece's coat!

After digesting this information, having heard it twice now, Frits deigned to turn around on his stool to look at the cobbler. "How can you be so sure?"

 _Senile old fool must be mistaken,_ Frits thought, his knuckles white from gripping his mug.

"She was wearing it when we were fitting her for her new outfit—you get all your clothes from us! It has my wife's signature cross-stitching," he insisted.

Never before had Frits moved so fast in his life than when he stood up from that barstool. He staggered past Heidrek, nearly pushing him over in the process. As he passed, he pointed a finger at Heidrek and said, "Gods help you if you're wrong."

"I swear. . . ," Heidrek said, watching him go.

Several of the other patrons followed after Frits as he left, leaving Mongrel to shout, "Hey! Hey, you all still need to pay for those drinks, dragon or not!"

His words went unheeded as the crowd marched in a drunken gait toward the center of the town. They didn't have immediate plans to return and pay for what they'd been served, but Mongrel always knew who owed him what.

Fearing the worst, those feelings cut through his inebriation and steadied his balance. If it was true—if this dragon had her clothes—then it might have—

It might have—

_Captain Oskar handed over the mangled scrap of clothing, face downcast. The edges were tinted with blood, and it was clear what had happened._

_"Frits. . .I'm sorry, but Calla. . . ."_

He pushed the memory out of his head. It couldn't happen again. The dragons hadn't attacked, hadn't stolen anyway for a whole year.

_You can't think like that. It's a coincidence. It has to be it has to. . . ._

His thoughts were interrupted as he neared the square. Those at the edges of the crowd spotted Frits and they parted, drawing the attention of others so that they could do the same.

Just as Heidrek had promised, a squat dragon stood in the town square, poised to defend itself against the soldiers that had it surrounded. Behind them had gathered what townsfolk were brave enough to come and see the dragon for themselves.

The color drained from his face and Frits stopped just outside the circle.

True to his word, the dragon was standing over Oddny's parka.


	10. Leads

The Gronkle stood his ground, refusing to back down from those who dared aim their swords at him. He postured with his stubby wings flared and teeth showing, trying to keep them at bay while he searched for a familiar face within the crowd.

This was the right island, he was sure of it, but the children who had been with Oddny when she helped him weren't there.

His original plan had been to move to the island and make it a permanent home. He had staked it out for a while prior to being caught in the trap, making sure it didn't have any rival dragons or predators and housed plenty of food. The citizens of Penshaw hadn't bothered him, especially since there was plenty of open space outside of their town.

He'd never thought he'd find himself smack dab in the center of it all, surrounded by confused and aggressive humans.

The Gronkle had been taking great care of Oddny's parka during his day of rest and then the long journey back and still was cautious about stepping on it. All he had to do was make sure he returned it to someone he knew. Someone he was certain knew that it belonged to her.

So he scanned the crowd, searching for anything familiar. A scent, a face—but nothing stood out to him besides an agitated man that seemed close to a violent outburst.

Frits studied the soldiers until he spotted Oskar, nearly running him over in his haste to approach and find the answers he sought.

"What is going on?" he demanded. "Where did  _this thing_  come from?"

Oskar glanced at him and replied, "We're not sure. It didn't land here long ago and it won't let anyone near it. It hasn't attacked anyone or tried to flee yet, but it clearly wants some space. It's strange, to say the least."

"Why does it have Oddny's coat? Did it kill her?"

"I don't know, friend," Oskar sighed, shaking his head. He had  _some_  reassuring news, though. "I've sent one of my men to fetch Lorens. If there's anything to see, Lorens will find it."

Scoffing, Frits said, "We don't have  _time_  to wait for him to get here! Kill the dragon and get my niece's coat back,  _now._ "

"Patience, friend! It hasn't shown any hostility, but dragons can be dangerous if provoked."

"As if I wouldn't know that with how much they've taken from me."

The captain raised his hands defensively. "Now, I didn't mean any—"

"Kill it!  _Now_!"

Expression firm, Oskar placed his hands on Frits shoulder and said, "That's enough Frits! This is a highly unusual situation and we need Lorens' opinion. Even one dragon can take out a handful of my soldiers before we're able to subdue it."

With a grunt, Frits pulled away from Oskar's grasp and glared over at the dragon. "I don't like this. It has Oddny's coat."

"I know, friend," Frits sighed, "and we'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."

Unconvinced, Frits stared at the dragon and watched him growl and pace, never wandering far from his niece's belonging. The man growled and shoved Oskar hard, taking him by surprise. While he was off balance, Frits stole his sword and charged the Gronkle.

_This is for Calla and Oddny!_

Taken by surprise at the sudden threat, the dragon reared back and the inside of his mouth glowed a bright orange as he prepared to lash back in kind. However, neither Frits nor the dragon had the chance to do anything before a few of Oskar's soldiers jumped on Frits, wresting Oskar's weapon from him and holding him still.

"Are you insane?" one soldier demanded.

Another asked, "Do you have a death wish?"

"You could have doomed us all!"

"Let me go! If you won't do it, I will!" Frits snarled, struggling against those holding him back.

Though the threat seemed to be neutralized and the dragon settled back down, he now knew to watch Frits with a sharp eye. No one else tried to move in close, so he backed up and crouched down, ready to defend himself.

This was why he had avoided humans for so long. Rash, angry creatures they could be.

" _Don't_  do that again, Frits," Oskar warned as the soldiers threw him back into the rest of the crowd. "I don't want to, but I  _will_  lock you up for the night. Stupid moves like that is what gets good men killed and I won't tolerate it!"

Frits said nothing until he was able to shake off the soldiers who had detained him. "Fine. Fine! So then what do you propose we do, instead?"

Oskar pushed Frits back further, nearly chest to chest with the much smaller scribe. "Lorens is on the way. His hut isn't that far, so he should be here soon. Until he arrives, and so long as the dragon doesn't attack us, we'll  _wait_  for him and be patient."

When Frits opened his mouth to retort, Oskar gave him a light shove. "That is  _final_. You are going to  _stand here_  with the rest of us and keep your damned mouth shut.  _Do you understand_?"

For a few brief heartbeats, Frits was ready to argue. He kept his gaze even with the taller captain, but couldn't hold it for long. He soon deflated and averted his eyes. "Yes, I understand."

"Good," Oskar huffed, finally removing himself from Frits' personal space.

The commotion had brought more and more citizens from their shops and homes. However, as it became obvious that nothing was actually happening, they started to return to their own business. The cold wind and coming darkness were making a chill settle over the area.

There were those that were far too invested to leave until they figured out the mystery of the Gronkle. But, with things settling down, the dragon had ceased his defensive squatting.

He still watched Frits closely, but it was more out of curiosity than hostility. The two often stared one another down, and the Gronkle sensed much more animosity from him than he did anyone else whose gaze he met. He wasn't sure why, but there had to be some reason for it—unless the man just hated dragons more than anyone else.

The Gronkle wasn't afraid of him. The man looked thin and weak in the dragon's eyes. Easily dispatched. The dangerous-looking soldiers had already lowered their weapons, so he had nothing more to worry about.

Despite keeping quiet after Oskar's command, Frits found his patience wearing thin. " _What_  are we doing? Staring the damn thing to death?"

"Might work, actually."

The voice belonged to Lorens, who had finally shown up long after the crowd had thinned somewhat. He was ushered to the front to stand beside Oskar. Frits was forced behind the soldiers, unable to pass their line no matter how desperate he was to steal Oddny's coat back.

"What might work?"

"This dragon is tired," came Lorens' first observation. He moved as close as he could, stopping when the dragon bared his fangs at him. "If you want the coat back without hurting him, we could wait until he collapses from hunger or exhaustion. I'm not sure how long it'll be, though. They have great stamina."

"No!" Frits said, trying to push through two soldiers. "I won't wait!"

"Frits, what did I say about keeping your mouth shut?" Oskar snapped, turning to point an accusatory finger at the scribe.

Lorens ignored him altogether. "He's defensive but doesn't seem aggressive. If we figure out what he wants, we could coax him away from the coat."

Though Frits let his disdain be known with a scoff, he spoke no words.

"I would prefer solving this peacefully, at least until we know for sure whether or not the dragon hurt Oddny," Oskar agreed. "I would rather not hurt an innocent creature."

" _Innocent_? They terrorized our town for years!" another voice from the crowd piped up. "We should just kill it on principle!"

Frits pointed toward the person who spoke. "You see? You see!"

"I won't risk my men or the citizens for revenge," Oskar huffed. "If we can do this by giving the dragon what he wants,  _no one_  gets hurt."

"If we kill him now," Lorens added, "it could spark an end to this peace. Dragons haven't attacked us in over a year, but they might strike back if we kill one of theirs unprovoked. Wayward travelers could once again be in danger walking to and from Penshaw."

One of the soldiers asked, "Can we subdue him somehow? Maybe lead him away from the coat?"

"Maybe someone can concoct a sedative strong enough to knock it out. We could stuff a fish with some herbs or something else that would put it to sleep?" another offered.

The sudden increase in volume had the Gronkle back on his feet, growling in agitation.

"Wait!"

At the sound of the new voice, the crowd parted to allow Skuli and Vermund to break through. Skuli was breathless, but Vermund was able to handle the sprint from their homes.

"We've seen this dragon before," he explained.

Skuli, bent over and trying to fill his lungs with air, nodded and waved his hand. "It's—the one. The. . .same one. . .from the woods. It's the one."

At the sight of the two boys, the Gronkle's demeanor changed like the flick of a switch. His defenses came down in an instant and his tongue flopped out from between his teeth. When he made to bound toward them, the soldiers reacted in kind and thrust their weapons toward him, immediately setting the dragon back into a fit of threatening growls.

"Woah, wait." Lorens lifted his hands and ushered the soldiers back. "When he saw those two, he acted differently. Come here, boys."

"You're kidding," Skuli said, his face paling.

Vermund, however, walked forward without hesitation. Skuli glanced around, searching for someone to intervene, but not even his father had any objections. Lorens was well trusted among Penshaw, and he knew his boy would be safe with the hunter. Groaning, he joined Vermund at Lorens' side, step by step, afraid sudden movements would set the dragon off.

With them in full sight, the Gronkle perked back up and wiggled his whole body with delight. He'd learned his lesson, however, and didn't try to approach.

"You said you found the dragon in a trap, right?" Lorens asked.

The boys nodded and Vermund added, "Oddny was the one who cut it loose."

Lorens watched the dragon as he digested this information. Slowly, cautiously, the dragon closed the gap with tentative half-steps, only to hop back when he caught Lorens staring at him. He always kept his sharp gaze on the soldiers around him, wary of their swords and of retaliation.

But these two boys—they had definitely been with Oddny all those weeks ago.

"He recognizes you boys," Lorens finally concluded.

Looking between the two, the dragon scooped up Oddny's parka in his jaws and tossed the loose end up and down like a dog trying to share its toy.

"Take it from him," Lorens prompted, nudging the teens.

Though Skuli made no move to do so, Vermund showed less trepidation. He took a few sideways steps toward the dragon, his hand outstretched. When the dragon made no effort to scare him away and even shuffled toward him, Vermund bent down to his level.

Huffing and snorting, the dragon tossed the parka up and down with slow bobs of his head. Everyone was silent, save for the Gronkle, as Vermund took the parka's sleeve between his fingers. The boy kept his eyes on the beast, gently pulling the parka toward him. Instead of putting up a fight or playing tug of war, the dragon let it slip from his teeth and smacked his lips.

"That's a good. . .dragon," Vermund murmured, raising his free hand, palm out, to keep the dragon still. It wiggled, tongue lolling and mouth gaping in a wide dragon grin. He knew to keep his distance, though, especially with so many armed humans.

They were quick to startle and even quicker to strike.

"Good job, Vermund. Bring it here and let me see it," Lorens beckoned.

Though he kept his eyes on the dragon, Vermund edged back to the hunter. When he tried to hand over the slightly damp coat, however, their Gronkle visitor snarled and took a threatening step forward, setting the soldiers on edge.

Lorens held up his hands in a placating manner. "Okay, sorry, never mind. . .I won't touch it. Just show it to me, Vermund."

Nodding, he unfolded Oddny's parka and showed Lorens the front, back, and inside. The dragon seemed satisfied and sat back on his haunches, panting and smacking his tongue over his face. Lorens waved the soldiers back and they reluctantly stood at ease.

"I don't see any blood, not even a stain or a trace of it. There aren't any tears in the fabric. It's, er, a little dirty and worn, but I'd say she was unharmed when she stopped wearing it," said Lorens, looking to Frits. Everyone heaved a collective sigh of relief and a few muttered amongst themselves, wondering what they could do with that information.

"So what's the dragon doing with it?" Skuli asked.

"He was with her, obviously," Lorens said. "He might have followed her after the Viking took her. Somehow, he brought this back here to show us. Or, rather, you."

Vermund stared at the parka for a moment, then looked back to the dragon. "Why?"

"It's hard to tell," Lorens murmured. "I'm not familiar with how they think, but obviously he knows you and was waiting for someone he recognized to show up. He could be trying to thank you, he could be trying to tell us something. . .we'd have to spend more time with him to really dig in and find out his intentions."

Frits suddenly pushed through the line of soldiers while they were distracted, earning a few disgruntled complaints. He stumbled his way next to Lorens and the boys. Ignoring the surprised snarls from the dragon, he snatched Oddny's coat from Vermund and fell to his knees, embracing the bundle of fabric to his chest. No one stopped him and no one said anything. A few could only avert their gazes.

Only the dragon seemed miffed at the display, hopping and snarling. After a moment, his bluster came to a stop and he shifted where he stood, uneasy and unsure of what to do. Normally, baring his fangs and making a fuss worked. It was good enough to scare off most non-Viking or trapper humans he ran into but. . .this man didn't care. The Gronkle wasn't planning to attack, he'd just wanted to keep the parka from anyone he didn't recognize.

This was the same man who had nearly accosted him earlier and the pieces were starting to fall together. The way he clung to Oddny's coat, the anger when he'd come at the dragon—maybe this gangly man somehow knew Oddny and had wanted her belongings back.

So, he simmered down. The Gronkle still wasn't happy with how Frits had yanked it away from Vermund, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

Not when there were still so many armed men around.

At last, Frits gathered himself and pulled his damp face away from the fur lining to look at the dragon. Their eyes met and the man lifted the jacket to the Gronkle.

"You were with her? She was okay?"

The dragon glanced down at the parka in Frits' arms and then up at him, no hope of understanding.

It was a rhetorical question anyway.

He stared at the dragon a moment longer, then staggered to his feet. The dragon shuffled and made a low growling noise.

"Slowly, slowly. You don't want to accidentally set him off, especially since  _you_  attacked him," Oskar grunted,

Frits shot him a glare but turned his attention back to the dragon. His jaw worked as if he wanted to say something, but he clamped his mouth shut in the end and merely stared at the dragon. It was still watching him, but he allowed a fraction of his attention to rest on the soldiers standing around—just in case.

"Thank you," Frits said at last, speaking through his teeth. The Gronkle narrowed his eyes at the conflicting tones in his words and voice.

That was all Frits was going to allow the dragon. These things had taken so much from him, and this small token wasn't going to quite be enough, but it was a start. Knowing that Oddny hadn't been injured when her parka was lost was a good enough consolation.

_But where is she now?_

Vermund glanced at Frits, then took a few steps closer to the dragon, crouching down until he was in a kneeling position. The Gronkle blinked at him and cocked his head, dropping his guard.

This boy was alright. He shuffled forward with confidence, even if he couldn't completely trust the rest of the humans around him. For now, at least, they were calm and not poised for violence. He stopped outside of arm's reach of Vermund, though, stretching his short neck out to sniff curiously at the young man.

"What are you doing, Vermund?" Lorens asked, his just loud enough to be heard.

Taking a deep breath, Vermund put his arm down and looked over his shoulder. "Bring me some fish, or whatever this thing eats. I'll pay for it later."

Oskar gave the order as Lorens asked, "What for?"

"He already trusts me and Skuli, but we want him to stick around, right?"

"Why would we need it to stick around?" Frits huffed. "We already got her parka from it."

Lorens said, "This creature is the only thing that's seen Oddny. If he found her once, then it's likely that he can find her again."

Before he could elaborate, a runner arrived with a small woven basket of fish. It was passed forward until finally given to Vermund, and the young man pulled out a couple of them to offer the Gronkle. His ears perked up and he edged forward, mouth open. Vermund tossed the two fish onto the dragon's tongue and he swallowed them whole, smacking his lips in contentment.

"There we go," Vermund murmured, showing him a few more. "Some tasty fish."

The Gronkle moved closer and Vermund fed him the entire contents of the basket, but even then the dragon still seemed hungry and shoved his snout in the basket, sniffing around for seconds. Vermund pulled it away and gave it to Skuli, who handed it back into the crowd.

"Sorry, boy. We can get you some later," Vermund said, inching forward with an awkward hop before raising his hand once again. The dragon tilted his head to one side but shuffled forward all the same. The audience shifted, giving them a little more room. After a few tense heartbeats, the Gronkle stepped up and allowed Vermund's rough palm to rest on the crest of his nose. Vermund swallowed hard and released the breath he'd been holding.

No one said anything for a spell, but eventually, Skuli made it past his own reservations and moved to crouch beside Vermund.

If they were making friends, he wanted to try.

"Careful, now," Lorens warned with a soft voice. Oskar and a few of the soldiers tensed. "No sudden movements. We don't want anyone to lose their hand."

Vermund glanced at Skuli and made room for him, sliding his hand over so Skuli could place his own. Skuli forced the lump in his throat down and took his place next to Vermund, tentatively raising his hand. The Gronkle was watching Vermund, distracted, so he took his chance and gently set his hand down.

He couldn't help the nervous chuckle he made in victory.

The extra hand drew the dragon's attention and he examined Skuli with narrowed eyes, his ears flat. However, the suspicion and irritation dissipated when he realized it was one of the other children that had been present with Oddny. The Gronkle let his tongue fall from his mouth and he settled back down, peering between the lads.

"Lorens," Oskar called as softly as he could, trying not to interrupt the boys' moment.

"Yes, captain?"

He nodded his head toward the scene before them. "Can you tell us anything about where Oddny's been with that jacket?"

"Nothing that we haven't already figured out. She went overseas and was in a boat, then probably made landfall somewhere. It had some dirt and twigs in it, and I doubt the dragon would have landed on the ship for her. That's all I can discern, though. Did you think I'd be able to smell it and tell you its entire life story?" Lorens huffed.

Oskar sniffed and looked at the ground. "I, uh, well no, I guess not."

Lorens shook his head and watched as Skuli and Vermund tested their boundaries by patting the dragon and circling around him. No one else tried to step up and take a turn petting the dragon, and the crowd had slowly dispersed until it was just their parents and the soldiers.

"Skuli, don't get too comfortable."

While the parents policed their handsy children, Frits started to realize what exactly Lorens and Oskar were discussing. He stopped watching the two boys and the dragon with contempt— _how can they act like this around a dangerous beast?—_ and turned to the other two men.

"Can we make it lead us to Oddny?" he asked with a hint of desperation.

Lorens shrugged. "If we had a boat."

"What if we got one?"

"I can spare less than half a dozen soldiers," Oskar offered. "We're not in a war right now, but if I send too many away, we'll be open to raids and bandits."

The hunter sighed. "We could round up some volunteers, but we'd have to figure out how to communicate our intent with the dragon. Even then, she may not even be in the last place he saw her. If we had more information. . . ."

Everyone muttered amongst themselves in agreement. There were too many variables, and it would be difficult to make the dragon understand.

Finally, someone piped up. "If we can wait, Johann is due to make port in three days. If anyone would have information, he would. The children can speak with him and give him a description of the man. We have plenty to trade with him, and you know how that man likes to talk."

A ripple of knowing nods moved through the gathered soldiers and remaining citizens. If they asked Johann anything, he'd be certain to give them a detailed history and weave in his own life story.

But, if it meant gaining any lead on the girl's whereabouts, then they could weather it.

"Three days?" Frits groaned. "What about Oddny? She's already been gone for so long. The longer we wait, the more her chances to survive drop!"

He looked between the other two and added, "Right?"

Sighing, Lorens took a long look at the parka in Frits' arms and shook his head. "It's dirty, but there's no damage, no blood. They most likely have her working. So long as she's able to work, I'd say she'd be okay."

"Well, Frits," Oskar said, "can Oddny handle some manual labor if they have her working?"

Frits bristled and clutched her coat tighter to his chest. "Are you saying they made her a  _slave_?"

Oskar and Lorens shared a glance, then Lorens locked eyes with Frits and said, "I should hope so. With Vikings, the only other outcome is death."

Growling, Frits turned in angry circles, wiping his mouth with his hand. He searched for an answer, or someone to take his fury out on. Most of it was directed at himself: he knew the answer was yes. That she would be able to handle it—would do  _well_.

 _I treated her no better. She might as well still be home with me,_ he thought bitterly.  _If I could just get her back, I could make it up to her._

It wasn't an ideal situation, and he could only imagine the things they were making a young maiden like her do, but she was a decent cook and he took some solace in telling himself that they'd have her doing various things like cleaning and preparing food.

"She'll be fine," he sufficed to say. "She's a strong girl."

The two men nodded, drawing some relief from his words. "Good. Then we will continue under the assumption that she's alive."

Lorens said, "We just have to wait for Trader Johann to make port and we'll see if he knows anything. He travels all over, trades with many. He's our best shot at figuring out which tribe kidnapped her, and where they might be taking her."

"But the longer we wait—" Frits began to insist.

"We can do nothing right now  _but_  wait, Frits. If she's strong like you say, then she'll be alright for a little while longer," Lorens pointed out sternly but not unkindly.

"So that's the plan," Oskar added. "We have the dragon. After we get what information we can from the trader, we'll decide what the best plan of attack is. Depending on the tribe, we may not stand a chance of ever getting her back, but we can hope for the best."

" _'_ _Hope for the best'_?" Frits scoffed. "Are you saying that—"

Captain Oskar cut him off. "My men and I fight off bandits and thieves at the worst of times. We're not equipped to fight an entire tribe of Vikings. No other village will lend us aid, either, even if we promised to compensate them. Not when all we want is to retrieve one lost lass."

"That's my  _niece_!" Frits snarled, letting go of Oddny's parka with one hand so he could grab Oskar by the lapels. "Are you saying that depending on what Johann says, you might not even  _bother trying_  to go and find her? Because you're a little afraid of Vikings? I can't just stand idly by—what am I to tell her parents if—"

Lorens pulled Frits off of Oskar and pushed him through the crowd, away from the increasingly more agitated dragon. The Gronkle had been fine making friends with the boys, but with Frits shouting, they had to move back to a safe distance when he'd started growling and stamping his paws.

Oddny had been such a quiet, nice girl. How could this loud, angry man know her?

"Frits, calm down. We're only trying to be realistic and it doesn't matter right now," Lorens interjected, his hand against Frits' chest to keep him back. "We'll just have to wait. That dragon is in no condition to go anywhere for a while. He's tired and irritable."

All three turned to look at the flying reptile. He had calmed somewhat when Vermund approached again to soothe him. Once the Gronkle was certain that he was not under attack and that Frits was merely being loud and obnoxious, he rested all of his bulk on the ground and resumed his content panting, looking more and more sleepy as time passed.

"Just tell me that when the time comes, you won't give up," Frits demanded.

"I can't make that promise," Oskar said, placing his hand on Frits' shoulder. "As I said, we aren't equipped or trained to handle Vikings. Hopefully, Johann can give us something to go off of and if we keep the dragon around—keep him fed and happy—he might help us."

Frits worked the parka in his hands, staring down at it. "Can the dragon track her by scent, if we have nothing else?"

Captain Oskar deferred to Lorens for the answer and the hunter said, "I'm afraid not. I don't believe his class is capable of high-tier tracking. We'd need a dragon from the tracker class, not a boulder class like this Gronkle."

"Can we find one?" Oskar asked. Lorens and Frits gave him questioning looks, so he explained. "If we can successfully tame this dragon, we can do it with others."

Lorens shook his head. "This is the first dragon we've seen in a year. There's no guarantee we'd see another one anytime soon, and the scent trail may go cold by then. Especially if she's too far away. We can keep it in mind, though, if one does show up."

He eyed Frits and motioned toward the parka in his arm. "That would be the best bet to track her with, but you'd have to stop clinging to it. Otherwise, it'll be  _your_  scent all over it, not hers."

Grimacing, Frits stopped clutching the jacket to his chest and held it loosely in his arms instead.

"Perhaps Johann can shed some light on the mystery of the missing dragons, too. Not that I miss the dragons raiding our land for fish and food," Oskar chuckled. It was a sound without mirth.

The two started up a conversation between themselves and Frits backed up, turning his attention to the dragon attempting to doze in the town square. Skuli was seated next to the Gronkle, lightly touching his ear to make it flick.

All of this planning—all of this speculation—and Oskar couldn't even guarantee that they would start a rescue at all.

That dragon didn't look so tough, letting the two boys mess around with him. Frits wasn't sure what kind of dragon had taken his flower from him, but he could convince himself that it wasn't  _this_  type of dragon.

And if he could lead Frits to Oddny, then maybe he could set aside his hate for them.

_Well, fine. If Oskar won't do anything for Oddny, then I'll just have to do it myself._


	11. Coax

Frits spent the next few days sequestered in his cabin, waiting for either Lorens or Oskar to let him know when Johann arrived. He wasn't merely sitting on his hands though—no, he was planning; he had to decide what he was going to do if the captain of the guard refused to help find his niece.

Everything he thought up wound up pointing to the dragon. He'd have to move past his reservations, his hatred for the creatures, and find some middle ground.

If it was for Oddny, Frits would do it.

However, he hadn't quite worked himself up to spend any time with the beast. That idea was a last resort, after all. He would wait until they made up their minds. He would hear Johann out and let Oskar make his informed decision. If it wasn't to Frits' liking, then he would see about befriending the Gronkle and take it from there.

Besides, Frits realized that he didn't need to spend any time with him. The dragon had all the attention he could ever want since he had taken quite a liking to the children. Anyone else received mistrust and suspicious looks, but so long as he decided they were harmless—or offered him tasty treats—he tolerated their presence.

Above all, though, he was happy to be fed.

They were all too eager to provide him with fish: the people of Penshaw preferred other meats most of the time, and the local fisherman now had reason to cast more than one net. The pampering was a welcome gift: it was something he'd desperately needed after chasing Oddny to the end of the world and back.

Most were as mistrusting toward the dragon as he was them, but Signy had insisted that her parents let him live on their property. They'd set up a nest for him within a hastily constructed pen, giving the Gronkle his own space with a trough for food and another for water.

Of course, he was free to come and go as he pleased, but the Gronkle saw no real need to. Not when the children visited him often and he was never want for food.

"Aren't you scared of it?" Marit snarked from a safe distance outside of the pen.

"No," Signy replied in a matter-of-fact tone, scratching the dragon's chest. She was the most smitten with the dragon, Vermund following in close second. The Gronkle was sprawled out on his back, tongue hanging loosely from his mouth. "Why would I be? He's so sweet! Look at him!"

Marit made an affronted sound.

Signy ignored her and cooed at the dragon, who was kicking his leg as she found a particularly itchy spot. In a sweet baby voice, she crooned, "Isn't that right, Rocky? Who's my sweet boy?"

"You guys  _named_  it?" Marit scoffed.

Skuli shrugged and looked over the pile of rocks he and Vermund were sitting near. Hals was nowhere to be seen, the only one who refused to participate in dragon time with the rest of them. "Signy came up with it."

"I guessed that much," said Marit with a roll of her eyes. "Why 'Rocky'?"

"Because he eats rocks!" Signy squeaked.

"Clever."

"I wanted to name him Stonecold," Skuli sulked, his arms crossed.

His sister snorted. "That's such a stupid name."

"And 'Rocky' is a smart one?"

"It sure  _sounds_  better than yours!" Signy retorted, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

Vermund chuckled and picked up a choice stone, then whistled at the dragon. Rocky lifted his head and Vermund tossed the hunk of rock at him, which he caught in his mouth, filling the pen with the sound of crunching.

The siblings' mother came out from the main house, wiping her hands off with a rag. "Alright kids, Johann's finally here."

Instantly, the relaxed atmosphere became tense and the three inside the pen exchanged looks. Marit sighed and left in a huff, irritated that her friends were held up by some girl they'd known for such a short time. Sure it was awful that she'd been taken, but were they really going through all this trouble for her?

Deep down, she knew that they'd go through it all just the same if it had been any of the others, but she couldn't help the frustration she felt. All she wanted was her friends back—and their attention.

Vermund stood up first and the other two followed. Rocky flipped over onto his claws and watched them curiously, head cocking from one side to the other. As the three children left, he followed after them, nudging Signy with his nose and licking her arm.

"Ew, Rocky!" she giggled, pushing on his head.

"Shouldn't the dragon stay here?" Skuli asked.

"Why? He wants to come!" Signy protested with her arms around Rocky's neck.

Sighing, Skuli just headed out. Vermund said, "I don't see why he can't come. No one's complained about him walking around with you, yet."

"Just don't let him off unsupervised, okay? He might get into trouble," Signy's mother said.

"Yes, Mom, I know. He's a good boy, so don't worry. C'mon Rocky, let's go."

Together, they made their way toward the docks. Rocky followed them like an obedient puppy, nudging and bumping into Signy and Vermund the entire way. Every now and again, he would escort Signy around so the citizens were used to his presence. The people of Penshaw often stopped to watch but were still too wary to approach or try to meet the dragon. It would take some time to heal the wounds left by the raids.

Oskar was already at the docks with a few soldiers and adults, all carrying things they'd like to trade. The children, escorted by Rocky and the siblings' parents, were some of the first to arrive. Trader Johann saw them walk up and raised his hand in greeting, then faltered when he spotted the Gronkle.

"Is that a—you guys too?" he asked, turning to Oskar.

The captain lifted an eyebrow. "Us what?"

Johann indicated to the dragon. "You're training the dragons too? I didn't think it would spread this far outside of the archipelago."

"You mean to say there are others with tame dragons?" Vermund asked.

"Sure! This village I frequent, Berk, they've got dragons everywhere. It's very strange, to say the least. Have you tried riding him yet?" he asked, organizing a pile of boxes that had shifted during his travels.

Signy's eyes widened into saucers. "You can  _ride_  them?"

"Oh no you don't, Signy," her father protested. She pouted and draped herself over Rocky.

Lorens showed up moments later with Frits in tow, following Lorens' suggestion to stop holding on to it. He kept it with the rest of her things, like the furs that she'd slept on while she was there, hoping her scent would remain a while longer in case they needed it.

"Trader Johann, how are you?" Lorens greeted him.

"I'm well, good hunter! If it interests you, I have some exotic pelts from faraway lands?"

"I might take a look, but first we would like to ask you some questions," Lorens said. Signy hung back with Rocky, but the rest joined Johann on his ship.

Glancing up from his organizing, the traveling merchant stopped what he was doing and looked at the convergence of people on his humble ship. He looked between them and smiled nervously while saying, "You all look so very serious. . .what is it you would like to ask me?"

"Actually," Oskar started, "it has something to do with this dragon here."

Johann was quick to say, "I'm afraid I don't know much about dragons—"

"No, not questions  _about_  the dragon. One of ours was taken by what we believe was a Viking. The dragon was merely there when it happened. We want to know if you could tell us which tribe he was from, or where they might take her," Oskar explained.

Nervously, Johann shifted his weight from foot to foot. He stammered, "I—I wouldn't know much. Who was it that was taken, if you don't mind my asking?"

Frits stepped forward. "My niece, Oddny."

"My most sincere condolences," Johann said with a solemn dip of his head. "Especially with everything that happened to your wife. I'll do my best to help if I can, but I can't promise I'll have the exact answers you seek, nor can I divulge sensitive information. . .for free."

"Anything information you can give us at all will help, no matter how small. We'll be sure to compensate you as you see fit," Lorens assured him.

The trader shook his head and held up his hand. "So long as you're not looking to start a war and use me as a means to an end, I'll do what I can to help you find the girl."

 _Finally, someone who gets it,_ Frits thought.

"Nothing like that, Johann," Lorens chuckled. "Just an idea of who they might be and where they may take her. We're not looking to start a fight and would prefer to rescue her on peaceful terms if possible. Your involvement will never be disclosed, I assure you."

"Fair enough."

"Children," Oskar beckoned, holding up an arm. Vermund came to stand by his side and Skuli moved forward as well. "Tell Johann what the man looked like."

Skuli spoke first. "We, uh, didn't really get that good a look at him. On account of. . .running away, and all. . . ."

"Sensible. Vikings  _can_  be scary," Johann commended the boy with a knowing nod.

"We hadn't expected him to show up," Vermund admitted. He felt, perhaps, the worst for fleeing considering how much older and stronger he was than the other children. "I know for sure he was big, though. Probably this tall and this wide." He pantomimed the general shape and size of the kidnapper with his hands.

From her place by Rocky's side, Signy tossed in her own memories. "Yeah, he was really big and scary. And—and he had dark hair. He also carried around this, this, double-sided. . .um. . . ."

"It was a battle axe," Vermund supplied.

"Yeah, yeah, that thing. And he had a cape," she finished with a decisive nod.

They floundered to remember any more details they could before Skuli added, "I think he was clean shaven and he a few scars on his face. Um, just small ones."

"That's about all," Vermund sighed, rubbing his head. "I don't remember if he had any unique runes or sigils on his armor. Like I said, he took us by surprise and we kind of just broke out of there. We really—we really thought Oddny was with us."

Signy bit her lip and hugged Rocky's neck tighter, trying not to let her emotions force her to tears again. The three kids gave Frits side-long glances, but he wasn't looking at them. Instead, he was staring at Johann with a tense expression.

Nodding, Johann motioned toward the Gronkle. "And the dragon? You said he was there? Doing what, pray tell?"

It was Vermund who told Johann that they'd found Rocky in a trap and Oddny had volunteered to cut him free from the netting that bound him. He finished his story; "The Viking had been coming to collect him, and I'm pretty sure he was mad that we'd let him go."

"Our other friend was with us, but he didn't want to come. Doesn't like the dragon," Skuli said.

Johann put his hand to his chin and stared down at his feet in thought, trying to fit the pieces together that they had given him.

"Hmm, he was most likely a trapper, then. They sell to the highest bidder, usually. Dead or alive," Johann mused at last, tapping his chin with his index finger. "I don't spend much time with trappers, they're always on the move, like me."

"Can you tell us anything more?" Frits begged.

Lorens stepped up and clasped Johann's hands within his, placing a small coin pouch in his grip. "Anything at all."

The trader considered the bribe, brightening with enthusiasm. "Well, I have a map. I can mark a few places I know they frequently make port."

"That would be wonderful," Lorens said, taking a step back. "These trappers you speak of, are they Vikings or something else?"

Johann's expression turned grave. "They are definitely Vikings. A cutthroat, boorish, and ruthless lot. They just chose the business of dragons as merchandise instead of raids. Some travel in small ships, but more often than not they're part of a larger fleet made up of mercenaries. They always have interesting things to trade, at least. This one time—"

"Thank you, Johann," Oskar quickly interrupted, trying to keep things on track before the trader began his long-winded stories. "Please, do show us the map."

"Of course!" Johann said with a grin, motioning for them to follow him. "Also, please do tell me more about this young Oddny girl. If I see her during my travels, I can maybe try to find out more about who she is with."

"That would be most helpful. Frits, would you mind?"

With a nod, Frits climbed aboard the ship to tell Johann all he could about Oddny, from her height to her general build to the way that—

"She. . . ," he swallowed a dry lump that was forming in his throat, "looked a lot like Calla when she was younger. Her hair, her freckles. . .just like my wife's. You've, you met her once or twice before. . .before, right?"

The trader gave him a sympathetic nod. "Yes, yes I remember. I'll keep my eyes open for her, I promise, Sir Frits."

After some scouring, Johann managed to dig up the map. Oskar did his best to keep the man from running off on a tangent, but Johann was determined to tell the tale of how he'd come into possession of the chart. They decided to hear him out while he found a quill and circled off some of the places he thought that the trappers might make port.

". . .and the man tells me this map might lead to treasure! So, of course, I gave him what he wanted and—well just look! It wasn't marked at all. That was one of the first and last times I'll be swindled," he finished with a huff, handing over the parchment.

Taking it, Oskar said, "Well, I'm glad you had it all the same. We won't take up any more of your time, and I'm sure everyone here is dying to take a look at your wares.

"Oh, it is my pleasure! Please, if you think of anything else, do not hesitate to ask."

Vermund remembered something at that moment and cleared his throat. "Actually, we've all been kind of curious as to why the dragons stopped coming out here. They used to raid us for our food and people all the time."

"Ah, yes!" Johann hummed. "I do recall that the Berkians did away with a massive queen dragon, the Red Death. She had a large appetite and if the dragons didn't fetch her enough to eat, then they were eaten. Or, something of the like."

"So they were just trying to survive," Vermund surmised.

The trader nodded. "It would seem that way."

With that particular mystery solved, Oskar, Frits, and Lorens shuffled aside to allow everyone else the opportunity to trade with Johann—the whole reason they were there in the first place. The kids even rushed forward with their own goodies, and since Johann wasn't particularly scared of Rocky, he allowed the dragon near the boat where he regaled the children with stories of a particular Gronkle that he knew fairly personally.

Rocky found so many interesting scents aboard the ship—various dragons, some exotic fish, and interesting baubles that made sounds when he accidentally bumped them.

While the kids hung on Johann's words and Rocky made himself comfortable, the three men stood in a tight circle off the boat, conversing amongst themselves while they had the privacy to do so.

"So what say you?" Frits asked, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dreading what they'd have to say about Johann's information. Particularly because Johann had said the trappers that had taken Oddny could possibly be part of a larger fleet.

One composed of battle-hardened and cutthroat Vikings.

_This isn't going to happen. I'm going to be on my own._

Sighing, Oskar said, "Well, we at least have some information and a map, so we have potential locations to try and visit."

After a pause, he continued. "But. . . ."

 _Here it comes,_  Frits thought bitterly.

"If they really are an entire fleet of Viking dragon trappers. . .I just. . .we'd need to figure out how we're going to play this out. If we can come up with something reasonable, something that we could offer in exchange for her since there's no way we can fight them. . . ."

Frits pointed behind him at the children and Gronkle. "The dragon! We can give them the dragon! He trusts us, likes being around the kids. We could—we could easily subdue him now."

"Would you really have us put any of our citizens in that kind of danger?" Oskar countered. "Even if we could lull him into a false sense of security and jump him, he'd still be able to cause some serious damage before we could hog tie him."

"So sedate him. I'm sure there's something we could put in his food—"

Brow furrowed, Lorens said, "Frits, look at them.  _Really_  look at them."

Frustrated and almost furious, Frits reluctantly turned around to look as Signy, Rocky, and the other two left Johann's ship. The dragon and Signy began playfully chasing each other in circles, the young girl squealing and giggling with delight as her brother joined in and Vermund watched with an amused smile.

"What about them?" Frits demanded.

"They're completely attached. If you can convince those kids—Signy especially—to subjugate the dragon and trade him to Vikings that are likely to kill him or sell him to someone who will, then be my guest. But do you really think they'll go for it?" Lorens said.

" _We're_  the adults. They don't  _have_  to go for it," Frits growled. "They'll get over it eventually. What if he's the only way we'll bargain for Oddny's return? He's just a  _dragon_. What's the problem here?"

Lorens crossed his arms. "Well, that's true enough. I would value her life above a dragon's. We can't let the kids know, though. They'll make a huge fuss about it. Instead, let's get a search party going. I'll volunteer. We'll tell them we're taking the dragon because he may recognize the Viking that took her. At least then we'll be able to avoid a scene."

Frits huffed and said, "At last you finally see reason."

"I can't go with you and risk leaving my men, but I'll pick some to escort you," Oskar said. "We can ask for other volunteers, as well. We still need a boat, though."

"What about the fisherman?"

Oskar shook his head. "His boat isn't made for that kind of traveling. It should be easy to find one that is, though. The hard part will be tracking down these Vikings."

"What will we do if we can't find anyone?" Frits wondered.

"I'm sure that at least one of those places Johann marked will have others there. We'll ask around. Someone will know something. If not, well then. . .she may be lost," Lorens said, his expression grim.

Dumbstruck, Frits looked between the two of them. "How—what do you mean, she might be lost? We can't give up after that! You'll find something, right? We'll see what we can find and then look for them! We'll have a boat!"

The two men gave Frits a long look. Oskar spoke next. "Procuring supplies for a long sailing trip will be hard. We'll have to take this one step at a time, Frits."

"We'll buy a boat, gather some volunteers, and follow Johann's map to some ports. From there, we'll see what happens and make a plan. We'll just have to pray to the Gods that they'll guide us to her," Lorens explained. "They sent us this dragon, we have to thank them for that."

"How long will it take to be ready to go?" Frits huffed.

Oskar shook his head. "I'm not sure. Like I said, between supplies and readying people for travel, it may take a while."

"A  _while_? How long is a  _while_? Every second wasted makes it harder to find her!"

"I know, friend," Oskar sighed, patting Frits to try and calm him. "But we're doing the best we can. I can send word to our neighbors in Northpass; they've got a large shipyard and should have something we can borrow or buy."

"But it's going to take time," Lorens insisted.

Frits pulled away from them and wiped his mouth, laughing without humor. "Oddny doesn't  _have_  time! We have to do something  _now_."

"There's nothing we can do now. We'll start preparations right away. See if you can find anyone who will go with you. Get what you can from Johann and make your own preparations. We'll leave as soon as we can, but it'll be a few more weeks. Maybe longer."

Oddny's uncle was trembling with anger, but he nodded and turned to Trader Johann's ship. Somehow, despite her father's misgivings, Signy had managed to mount Rocky and was squealing with delight as he hopped around. She looked extra small while on top of him and it was as if the dragon really enjoyed carrying her around.

Most of all, though, the dragon didn't look like it was  _that_  tired anymore.

_Maybe. . . ._

He glanced at the two other men—they were busy conversing about how they were going to execute the search; trying to figure out who would be the most likely to come with them. The people of Penshaw had businesses to run and their own lives. Lorens had volunteered, and maybe a couple others might, but Frits was starting to realize that he was going to have to take care of everything.

If anyone needed to find Oddny, it was him. This was his problem, and he didn't have weeks. If he hurried, he could be ready in a few days.

Jaw set, he approached the frolicking pair.

Rocky came to an abrupt stop when Frits was close enough to be noticed. The dragon stepped back warily, eyeing the man in front of him. He hadn't forgotten Frits' outburst, but Signy climbed down and approached him readily enough when Frits called to her.

"Yes, Mr. Iversen?" she asked, breathless and smiling.

"I need you to teach me about that thing—um, what's his name?"

"Rocky," she said, turning to the dragon and lifting her hand. He came over and rubbed against her side, still eyeing Frits. "Teach you what?"

Frits glanced around and took a deep breath, looking deep within himself for strength.

_I can do this._

_I_ have _to do this. For her._

"Teach me how to earn his trust. Teach me how to make him like me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers!
> 
> I've been working on something - original content! I made a patreon to help with my project, so head over there at /kaylanhodge to learn more! Don't worry, fanfiction will still continue to be posted on the usual (ir)regular schedule!
> 
> ~ Crayola


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